


Home is Where the Hoard Is

by a_thousand_deaths



Category: Fence (Comics)
Genre: And Nicholas is a Princess, But not a very happy one, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Seiji is a Dragon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 51,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21797878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_thousand_deaths/pseuds/a_thousand_deaths
Summary: “Have you had any offers?”I am the most powerful dragon this kingdom has seen in a century,said Katayama, arching his sleek neck and ruffing his mane in challenge.Any princess would be proud to call me theirs.“You are very powerful,” agreed the King.  “But that’s not what I asked.”Katayama’s ears lay flat to his skull.No,he said curtly, while Nicholas sat straight up and knocked his head against a keystone, half stunned with pain and shock.Which you knew very well when you asked the question.“So we are in a position to help each other out, are we not?”
Relationships: Jesse Coste/Eugene Labao, Nicholas Cox/Seiji Katayama
Comments: 57
Kudos: 85
Collections: Fence Secret Santa 2019





	1. Chapter 1

The dragon appeared in the throne room in a flurry of feathers, raven silk sliding against Nicholas’ skin while the air around him tightened like a bubble and then burst. 

Nicholas swallowed, popping his ears and sniffling as Gene wordlessly passed him a handkerchief. Magic had always made his eyes water, in addition to provoking some truly impressive sneezes, but seeing a dragon made it all worth it, so every morning this week had found him here, squirreled away behind Jesse and his father, waiting and watching and itching with excitement. 

Blowing his nose, Nicholas reached up to scratch the tickle behind his ears and plucked a feather from his hair, black as a night without stars and preened to perfection. When he trailed it against his cheek it felt soft as a kiss. “Holy shit,” breathed Gene, picking up a handful from the floor and brushing them against his palm. “They’re all tactile, all _real._ How did he do that?” 

Dragons could manifest at will, and they usually used it as an opportunity to show off their expertise: the more powerful the dragon, the more extravagant their display. 

Feathers covered the rich red carpet of the throne room, down to the end of the hall, and Nicholas had never seen a dragon remotely as powerful as this one.

The throne room was huge, opulent, the most luxurious place Nicholas had ever been in, but the dragon, pitch black and huge and instinctively _regal_ in a way that no human could hope to replicate, made it look shabby. 

Even his mane, shaggy and out of keeping with the rest of his perfectly groomed hide, only emphasized the difference between him and the other dragons. 

_He’s too powerful to give a fuck._

The dragon was magnificent, sleek and sinuous and silent, talons barely clicking as he strode the length of the hallway and stood before the throne, staring down solemnly at the King. King Robert remained impassive, as befit his stature, but the courtiers behind him let out a collective sigh of pleasure— even after the flight of dragons that had come before court the past month, day in and day out, this was something extraordinary.

The dragon’s scales shone ebony tipped with silver, and the outer feathers of his mane ranged back from his ears in delicate tufts. 

He sank to his knees in an elegant bow before the King. 

**I am honored to be here, Your Highness.**

The dragon’s voice reverberated in Nicholas’ chest, even though he knew he had only heard it in his mind. It was deep and measured and serious, and suited the dragon entirely.

“Katayama,” said the King. “We are doubly honored to have you.”

The dragon blew a lick of flame from his snout, and his discipline was such that it stopped a bare inch from the carpet, leaving no trace behind. 

Nicholas gasped, giving an enormous sneeze, and then he rubbed his nose fiercely, tearing his eyes away from the hypnotic grace of the black dragon. He could see why people feel in love with them so easily. The mix of danger and precisely wielded power was intoxicating, but he, at least, knew better than to trust his heart to someone that might be tempted to eat it.

No matter how dreamy they seemed at first glance, how silky their whiskers felt or how gracefully their manes wafted in the breeze as they wove their way in front of the moon, dragons had a brutal, savage side. Once they had found their princess, a dragon would rend anyone who dared touch this most beloved of companions limb from limb without the slightest hesitation. 

Of course, for most of his life Nicholas wasn’t a princess, so that part didn’t matter much to him. 

But that was before his father had a change of heart, before he brought Nicholas to court with his half brother and tried to civilize him, to Nicholas’ utter dismay. King Robert didn’t claim Nicholas outright, though-- he farmed out his parentage to a distant cousin, making Nicholas a low class member of court at best, foreign and crude, nothing like Jesse. 

Nicholas glanced up at the seat next to the King, where his half brother reclined, his golden hair shining, the most beautiful princess in the whole kingdom… and the focus of Katayama’s attention as soon as he entered the room. 

Not all the royalty observed the old traditions anymore, but the King still did. 

And Jesse was of age to be courted. 

As soon as they exchanged courtesies the King rose up from the throne and the dragon returned to his feet, and then they held their gazes against one another like swords, the King deferring to the dragon custom of greeting one another with intense, sustained eye contact. Nicholas didn’t understand how anyone could suffer staring at those obsidian eyes for so long, but the King held out, and at last the dragon gave a nod, and turned away, satisfied. 

The King had gotten rather expert at dragon customs, enough to please even Katayama, who didn’t seem the sort to be very forgiving, but then again his father had had ample opportunity to practice lately. As expected of such a covetous alliance, every dragon in the kingdom had called on the King the past week. One by one they came, each scaled in glory, fiery scarlet and satiny emerald and wintry sapphire blue, asking after the Heir, and one by one the King turned them down, to the puzzlement of all.

Once Nicholas saw Katayama, though, he knew why. The black dragon had sucked the air out of the room as soon as he appeared, black plumes drifting down like smoke, scales shimmering like the haze around a fire. 

Nicholas fingered the feather he had put in his pocket. It hadn’t disappeared, and Nicholas didn’t think it would.

 _I didn’t know magic this strong still existed_. Katayama hadn’t just manifested the feathers, only to have them eventually vanish— he had _created_ them. Nicholas had never even heard of such a thing. 

The King knocked his scepter against the tile, and Katayama craned his long, lean neck down, whiskers waving, and sank to his knees again, waiting for the King to make the introductions that the entire court had been on edge over all morning. 

“Allow me to present to you, most distinguished Katayama,” said the King, while the black dragon knelt, motionless, and the room held its breath. “My noble cousin’s son, His Highness, Nicholas Cox,” he said.

Nicholas stared at Jesse, who had an expression horrifyingly similar to pity on his face. The King cleared his throat. “Nicholas,” he said again, gently. 

Gene elbowed him in the ribs and he finally broke out of his daze, fumbling forward through the crowd while the courtiers flew before him like startled doves, each shrinking back as if he were contagious. Even Nicholas' guard at arms had her jaw dropped, aghast, and nothing _ever_ rattled Sally. Too soon Nicholas was alone on the grand carpet, set apart like a maiden to be sacrificed, trying not to tremble as he stared at the gleaming edge of a silver talon.

The King cleared his throat again, and with a jolt Nicholas remembered his manners and fell to his knees in front of the dragon, suddenly all too conscious of his wild hair, which he had made no effort to tame, of the stain on his shirt, of how threadbare he must seem in comparison to his half brother resplendent behind him. 

_I make a terrible princess._

“Um,” said Nicholas, and sneezed again. This close he could feel the heat emanating from Katayama like a bonfire, and it made him dizzy. When he took a deep breath he _smelled_ the dragon, spicy and hot like mulled cider on a cold night, and he stuck a hand in his back pocket again, running his fingers over a feather light as silk. Nicholas imagined flying on a creature as beautiful as Katayama, higher than the moon, wild and free and a million miles away from the dullness of court, and then lifting up his gaze became natural, not forced. “It’s a privilege to make your acquaintance,” he said sincerely, the etiquette lessons beaten into him the past year coming back with ease as he smiled up at those midnight eyes, inexplicably unafraid. 

Katayama rose up to his full height, a good six and a half feet, and raised his head higher still, so that when he looked down on Nicholas, it was from very far indeed. His mane was fully extended, ruffed up around his neck, and he bared his fangs, giving a disdainful snort as a spurt of flame licked out of his muzzle and scorched the edge of a tapestry.

 **You have got to be fucking kidding me,** he said.

****************************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a present for yeshallbeasgods on tumblr. :) Because I am physically incapable of writing anything under a certain word count, here is chapter one of a fully plotted out fic. Thank you so much for such an EXCELLENT prompt*, I could not stop laughing when I read it and this fic has practically written itself.
> 
> MERRY XMAS :)
> 
> *Seiji is an incredibly high maintenance dragon and Nick doesn't think he should count as a princess, for the curious among you!


	2. Chapter 2

Two hours later, Nicholas opened the door to Gene’s room and crawled onto the bed, shoving a pillow over his head with a deep sigh.

 _Finally_ , the only thing he heard in his head was silence.

Nicholas hadn’t chosen flight over fight initially. In fact, his knee jerk reaction to Katayama’s mortifying slight was to attack.

And _that_ had gone about as dreadfully as a clash with one of the most powerful dragons in the kingdom could go-- that is to say, as well as could be expected given that no one had been incinerated, or torn to pieces.

Yet. 

After a moment of awestruck silence, the court had erupted in furious whispering while Katayama paced in front of Nicholas, shaking out his mane and thrashing his tail back and forth until the King hit the sceptre on the tile again, favoring the dragon with a serious look.

“Nicholas is not a traditional princess by any means,” King Robert began, “but I don’t think you’d be happy with a traditional princess, from the accounts I hear. If we could talk more about Nicholas, if you would get to know him... I truly believe that you’d come to respect him as your equal in bravery and loyalty, and grow to love him for the sweet sincerity he brings to all the things he chooses to do.”

Nicholas felt his mouth curl up at the corners, glancing at the ground while his cheeks filled with heat, but his smile quickly faded and his face burned for a different reason when Katayama spoke next.

 **_Nicholas,_ **Katayama hissed, still facing the King, as if Nicholas wasn’t even there, kneeling in front of him, as if he didn’t exist-- just the way the King had treated him for so much of his childhood. **I understand you not being ready to part with your son, I can respect it. I can even forgive the inane gesture of inviting dragons from all corners of the kingdom, near and far, only to ultimately turn them away. But to offer in Jesse’s stead a scruffy, clumsy little nobody, filthy as a stray dog someone dragged in from the barn--**

“You’re one to talk,” Nicholas said sharply, his hand pressing down on his stomach as the bacon that he had had for breakfast threatened to come up. 

Katayama craned his neck down, his tail lashing behind him like a whip as he lowered his muzzle until he was eye to eye with Nicholas. **You certainly don’t lack for courage,** he said, fluffing out his messy mane. 

“You certainly do lack for manners,” said Nicholas, glaring right back without blinking. “Insulting me to my face, when I’ve done nothing to warrant it.” 

**I am not like the other dragons,** Katayama said simply, his ears swiveling to point directly at Nicholas, as if he had quite forgotten the King and the rest of the court. **I am the** **_best_** **. Surely you can understand the rationale behind my disappointment. Considering the hand I was dealt, I believe I am behaving in a reasonable manner.**

_By disappointment, naturally he means me_. Nicholas gritted his teeth. Of course Katayama preferred Jesse over Nicholas, everyone did, _always_ , but to say it like that, blunt and matter-of-fact, in front of the entire court...

“No, you certainly aren’t like the others. I’ve never met a dragon as rude and arrogant as you,” said Nicholas, shaking in anger, and it gave him a fierce sense of satisfaction to see Katayama’s ears flatten in displeasure, to see that proud neck lowered in shock. He’d probably never had anyone dismiss him so abruptly in his whole life. For good reason, considering his power, but Nicholas was in no mood to be rational.

_Now you know how I feel, you prick._

Nicholas’ mouth twisted and he resisted the urge to push a hand through his hair. “I won’t say it was a pleasure, because it _wasn’t_. Goodbye.” He got up and left then, setting his shoulders straight even though his entire face felt like it was on fire, and Nicholas walked slow and measured down the hall, and no one said a word until the door closed behind him. 

As soon as the door closed Nicholas surrendered all claim to dignity and _ran_. He fled to his bedroom first, and then aviary, and then the kitchen... but the unfortunate thing about dragon speech was that physical objects provided no barrier. No matter how many doors Nicholas put between him and the throne room, unless Katayama chose to stop broadcasting to the ends of his range (and as strong as he was, that likely extended well past the bounds of the castle), Nicholas would find no escape from the dragon’s words as they hit his every insecurity precisely as a lash.

 **How** **_dare_ ** **he,** the dragon seethed, not a second after the door had closed behind Nicholas, and where before his voice had been cool as ice, now it burned passionate as flame. **Call** **_me_ ** **rude, and then storm off like a child. Insolent, immature brat! I could have eaten him in one bite. He should consider himself lucky I possess the restraint I do.**

And that was the _least_ offensive part of what followed.

At last Nicholas found a refuge of sorts in the kitchen, hiding in the cupboard in between gigantic rounds of cheese. If he hummed loud enough, hands over his ears, it was somewhat possible to tune out the sporadic outbursts from the throne room. 

The familiar scents of the pantry provided some small measure of comfort, and another came when Gene and Jesse appeared not long afterwards, matching looks of worry on their faces.

“I wanted to tell you,” said Jesse. “But dad made me give my word.”

“What a shithead,” said Gene in disgust. “I’m glad you won’t get stuck with him, he is the most prissy, proper dragon I’ve ever seen.”

They settled on either side of Nicholas, warm against his shoulders, and Jesse elbowed him. “What do you think his nest would be like?” 

Gene rolled his eyes. “ _He_ probably sleeps on a pile of gold and gems, but as for his princess? A fucking briar patch.” He stuck out his tongue. “If you’re lucky.”

“Unless he happens to eat you first,” said Jesse. “But he possesses such _restraint_ , I’m sure that won’t be a problem.” 

Nicholas giggled despite himself, and it was almost possible to ignore the roaring then.

Almost.

Jesse and Gene stayed with him till the bitter end. Katayama’s final volley was a blast of sound that made Nicholas’ ears hurt, even though he knew that didn’t make any sense.

 **This invitation was a** **_joke_** **, and your offer is an** **_insult_** **. I’ll think twice before I ever accept any summons from you ever again. I accept no hospitality of yours, and I give none to you. Good day.**

Nicholas slumped on the Gouda, his eyes glued to the floor, and he must have looked truly pathetic, because Gene gave him an enormous hug, and he didn’t even tousle his hair afterwards.

“None of this makes any sense,” Nicholas said, frustrated. “I don’t even know why the King called for all these dragons in the first place.”

“It _is_ weird that he keeps turning them down.” Gene broke off a piece from the wheel and tore it into bits, offering one piece to Jess and one to Nicholas. 

“I’m fine,” said Nicholas, who still felt like he might be in danger of losing his breakfast, and Jesse shook his head, his thumb working his wrist as he stared sightlessly past the wheels of cheese. “ _He_ isn’t turning them down,” he said. “ _I_ am.”

“ _What_?” said Gene. “Why? It’s not a binding agreement, you know. You won’t even consider it?” He hunched over on the cheese wheel, his posture unnaturally stiff. “You told me you thought well of dragons,” he said, taking a savage bite off the rind in his hand.

“I do, I--” Jesse gripped his wrist, his knuckles turning white. “I already know the dragon I want,” he said to his shoes.

Gene choked, and Nicholas had to thump him on the back, hard, before a piece of Gouda went flying. “Who?” he asked weakly, in between coughs.

Jesse kicked his toe against a shelf, his cheeks turning a pale pink. “I don’t know his name.”

Nicholas gasped. “Your mysterious savior,” he said. “I fucking _knew it_ , I knew you had it bad for him, didn’t I tell you so, Gene?”

Gene had descended into another fit of hacking. “The golden dragon,” he said, wheezing, when he finally finished. “But he dropped you into a lake.”

“ _First_ he saved me from the kidnappers,” Jesse grumbled. “ _Then_ he dropped me into a lake. I think that’s an important distinction.”

The royal heir had been the target of a series of increasingly inept kidnappings lately, nothing serious and each one more poorly executed than the last, but every time, a bronze dragon had saved him. 

No one knew who the dragon was, or where he came from, and he refused to name himself or claim any reward. 

It was all very _mysterious_ and _romantic_ and right up Jesse’s alley, who even though he would rather die than admit it, was a sentimental sap when it came to that sort of thing, just as bad as every princess in the stories.

“You complained about the seaweed tinting your hair for a month, Jess,” said Gene. “And the next time that he saved you, he pitched you into the biggest clump of it I’ve ever seen!”

“He made sure that they fished me out before he left,” said Jesse. “ _Both_ times. And I think he was mad because he was worried about me.”

“Gee, I wonder why?” asked Gene as he ripped his rind into bits and dropped them onto the floor. “Could it be because you’re a reckless moron who insists on acting like he’s invulnerable at all times?”

Jesse’s eyes widened, hurt flashing across his face before he smoothed it into a smirk. “Now, Gene,” he said. “Don’t be jealous. I’m sure we’ll find you a dragon soon.”

Gene didn’t take the bait. “You don’t even really _know_ him,” he snapped. “You’re just making up some version of him in your head that has _nothing_ to do with reality.” 

“I know everything important about him. He’s _brave_ and _smart_ and _strong_ ,” Jesse’s smirk curdled, and he glared back at Gene, folding his arms across his chest. “The rest is just details.”

Nicholas sighed, leaning backward out of the line of fire. When Gene had first come to court, before Jesse had realized that the constant teasing was his way of showing affection, there had been several knock-down drag out fights, which usually resulted in slammed doors and scathing snark from Gene and Jesse sneaking up to Nicholas’ room later to cry on his shoulder. “He never leaves me alone,” said Jesse. “I don’t understand. All I want is to be his friend.” Nicholas suspected that wasn’t entirely true, that Jesse maybe wanted more than he’d admit, even to himself, but Nicholas wasn’t exactly in possession of a sterling record in romance either, so he kept his mouth firmly shut. 

Their fights usually disintegrated into a snarl of repressed emotion, and it looked like they were gearing up to have another one, the worst in quite some time, and so it was with a sense of relief that Nicholas heard the knock on the pantry door.

“Is Eugene in there?” Williams called down to them, and Nicholas got up and let her in.

“Sally,” Gene said, mouth settled back into its usual smile of sardonic amusement. “What can I do for you?”

Sally glanced at Nicholas, worrying her lip before turning back to Gene. “It’s concerning the dragon Katayama,” she said awkwardly. 

“It’s alright, Sally,” said Nicholas. “Really.”

It turned out that the King was requesting Gene in his diplomatic capacity to, of all things, go and persuade Katayama to return to the palace. 

“You’ll be escorted by one of the declined suitors from yesterday. The dragon will manifest you both at the entrance to Seiji’s lair, where you will deliver the message from the King,” said Sally.

Nicholas lay back on the Gouda with a thump when he heard the news. “Return?” he cried, his face gone gray. “But he _just_ left.”

Gene and Jesse shared a look, their concern over Nicholas clearly trumping any quarrel between them. “I’m sure dad has a good reason,” said Jesse, but the expression on his face did not exactly inspire confidence in this statement. 

“Whatever the reason,” said Eugene, squeezing Nicholas’ shoulder, “Katayama is far too proud to come back here after what just happened." 

Gene came from a long line of diplomats, and his opinion on such things, especially such things as regarding dragons, of which his family made a particular specialty, was usually dead to rights. Nicholas felt a little less ill then, enough so that he finally managed to eat a piece of cheese and keep it down. 

Gene left with Sally, while Jesse headed off to meet with the King, with an angry glint in his eye and a promise to Nicholas to express to their father, in no uncertain terms, his complete disapproval of the crown’s actions on this matter, and so after he finished eating Nicholas went upstairs, put a pillow over his head, and took a long nap.

*****************

When he woke up, it was late afternoon. Nicholas stretched out over the bed, popping out his shoulders, and when he felt a tickle under his arm he patted around the covers until his fingers closed around something silky soft.

When he saw the raven feather, he scowled, stomping to the window and prying open the shutters, but after Nicholas stuck his hand out into the chill air, he couldn’t quite get his fingers to let go. Eventually his skin grew red and chapped, and then Nicholas brought his hand back inside, closing the window and putting the feather back in his pocket with a shrug. 

_So Katayama was an asshole. It was_ still _an unbelievable display of magic, and I doubt I’ll see his like again. A year from now, I’ll have forgotten all about how rude he was, and I’ll be sad I threw away something as amazing as a dragon feather just because the dragon happened to be a dick._

That was a nice, logical way to look at things, and also happened to handily sidestep the fluttery feeling he had gotten in his belly right before Katayama had ripped all his hopes into shreds with words as sharp and cruel as those silver talons of his. Nicholas had just gotten done patting himself on the back for his maturity in overlooking Katayama’s advanced shittiness when Gene opened the door, with a very uncharacteristic frown on his face. 

“Nicholas,” he said, walking around the bed, and Nicholas could tell from his tone that whatever was coming next was not something that he would like. 

_“_ Well _, fuck me,”_ said Nicholas, with some feeling, after Gene had finished.

For it turned out that not only would Nicholas see Katayama again--- he would see him later that evening, where he’d be able to test out his newfound maturity at length.

Jesse had a more eloquent, but no less furious reaction.

“This simply will _not_ do _!”_ he cried, and though Nicholas had said many times before that his brother was something of a drama queen, in this instance he felt a true kinship with him. “We’re supposed to attend a dinner with that beast?! Did you see the unicorn tapestry after he left? It’s probably still smoldering as we speak!” He scowled. “I’d rather sit next to a burning building.” 

“I know.” Nicholas’ hand snuck towards his pocket, and before he could finger the feather again he snatched it back, biting his lip. _Why do I always have the worst possible instincts._ “And I think dad wants me to make nice with him.”

Gene gave a strained laugh. “I have a feeling that it’s worse than that,” he said. 

“What could possibly be worse?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” said Gene, “but the King is meeting with him now, and if I were you I’d sneak down the secret passage behind Jesse’s mirror and find out.”

“Hell yes,” said Nicholas. “Are you guys gonna come with?”

Jesse frowned. “We can’t,” he said sourly. 

Apparently before supper Jesse was required to attend some sort of formal meeting with the King and some of the nobles from the Kingdoms to the direct south of theirs, and Gene, shadowing the King’s chief foreign adviser as part of his diplomatic apprenticeship, would be there as well. 

“We’ll be at dinner,” said Gene. “With bells on, don’t worry.” 

“You owe me,” said Jesse. “Since dad’s dealing with your stupid dragon--”

_“He’s not my dragon!”_

“Well he sure as hell isn’t mine,” said Jesse. “Anyway, since he’s meeting with that beast of yours, he can’t go until the very end, so I have to be in charge. And no amount of apéritifs can make up for having to endure Sir Quintin’s exhaustive compliments.”

“Our princess has a haunting, subtle beauty,” said Gene, one eyebrow raised, chin propped up on his palm, and he crooned the last out, “much like a delicate hothouse flower.”

Jesse’s nose turned up as the bridge went a bright pink. “That’s not funny, Gene,” he said, and Nicholas left before they could really get into it, Gene’s reply (“Who said I was joking, my gangly little buttercup?”) echoing down the dusty corridor behind the mirror and then fading into silence. 

The passageway was cramped and dirty, and the closer Nicholas got to the throne room, the more his nose itched, until finally he resorted to breathing through the collar of his shirt. Apparently someone had told the dragon about how far he had been projecting, because Nicholas didn’t hear him until he had nearly stumbled onto the stone steps that signaled the transition into the older parts of the castle where the King’s quarters resided.

 **I am here out of exceeding courtesy towards you,** Katayama was saying, his passionate voice tightly leashed and under his control once more. **_That_** **, and nothing more.**

“Yes, I could see by your behavior this afternoon how important etiquette is to you,” the King said in a dry voice, and there was a curious scraping noise, long and drawn out, and when Nicholas pressed his eye to the gap in the stones between the fireplace and the mantel, he could see why. 

The black dragon, so nimble and lithe before, did not fit into the King’s drawing room very easily. He had doubled himself up before the fire, squishing himself into what looked like a painful position on the hearth, and the scraping was the sound his sides made against the stone right beneath the chink Nicholas was using to spy on them. The scent of nutmeg, sweet and rich, suffused the tiny crawl space, and the tip of Nicholas’ nose twitched once before he clapped his hands over his face in alarm and sat back, holding his breath until the urge to sneeze passed. 

**That… was not my proudest moment,** the dragon said, and when Nicholas put his eyes back to the gap, he saw him blowing a drawn out sigh though flared nostrils.

“Nicholas has a gentle soul, and you shamed him in front of the entire court,” said the King harshly, and Nicholas sank back into the brick, pressing his fingers harder into his face in embarrassment. “You’ll have to apologize to him first, before anything else. I’ve arranged for you to meet on the balcony above the Grand Hall, so the Court will be able to see your reconciliation-- but also to give you some privacy. That _doesn’t_ mean insulting Nicholas, however,” he added, a finger held up in warning as the dragon grumbled a reluctant assent.

 **A** ** _gentle_** **_soul_** **? He certainly didn’t hold back on his opinion of me,** said Katayama snidely. **But I’ll do as you ask, if I deem your proposal worth my time, which to be completely frank, is doubtful.**

“Ah,” said the King. “Am I to assume you came all this way to refuse me in person?”

There was a strained pause, punctuated with more scraping.

 **Your envoy mentioned an arrangement,** Katayama said at last, as the dragon sank his talons into the stone, flexing those silver claws over and over and leaving little furrows in the tile. **With the p-- with Nicholas. I must tell you, even if I were to agree, and I’m not saying I will, I sincerely doubt he’ll allow me within ten paces of him, dinner or no dinner.**

“We’ll see about that. More importantly, Gene tells me you didn’t answer my question,” the King replied mildly. "Have any of your offers been accepted?” 

**I am the most powerful dragon this kingdom has seen in a century,** said Katayama, arching his sleek neck and ruffing his mane in challenge. **Any princess would be proud to call me theirs.**

“You are very powerful,” agreed the King. “But that’s not what I asked.” 

Katayama’s ears lay flat to his skull. **No,** he said curtly, while Nicholas sat straight up and knocked his head against a keystone, half stunned with pain and shock. **Which you knew very well when you asked the question.**

“So we are in a position to help each other out, are we not?”

 **That remains to be seen,** the dragon said, the scrape of his scales on the tile highlighting his unease. **Much more likely that your princess will flounce off after another round of impropriety.**

"Let me worry about Nicholas," said the King. "I just need you to present yourself at dinner. In your human form, and on your best behavior."

 **It's not my behavior you should be concerned with,** Katayama said. His talons raked down the flagstones again, sending a shiver down Nicholas' spine as though he'd swiped those silver claws down his back instead of the tile. **But I'll be there,** he finished, and Nicholas felt his stomach drop, throbbing to match the pounding in his head.

_I thought for sure Katayama would turn him down._

Nicholas hadn’t given any thought to what he’d do if the dragon _agreed_ , and as he watched Katayama slither uncomfortably out into the main hallway, stretching his long limbs out with a rumbling groan, he felt his shoulders drop.

“You can come out now, Nicholas,” said the King once the door had closed, and Nicholas whacked his head against the keystone again, right on the bruise, and let out a muffled squeak.

The King released the mechanism that opened the passage from his end, tugging Nicholas out while he brushed out the layer of dust that had settled on him and examined his forehead. He called for his butler to get some ice, and once it arrived they both sat down before the fireplace, Nicholas with his head in his hands, pressing the cloth bundle against his skin.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “Why didn’t you just warn me in the first place?” Nicholas rubbed his bruise, wincing. “You let me go in all unprepared, and Katayama was so--” he stopped, blushing, and stared at the ground. 

_Rude. Unnecessary. Honest._

Because even though thinking about the particulars too much stuck in his throat, he could see why Katayama had been insulted, and part of him was angry at the King for manufacturing the situation in the first place, and especially for allowing Nicholas to get blindsided in front of everyone.

“I can tell you,” said Robert, “but you’re not going to like it.”

“What?” Nicholas asked, pressed the ice harder against the bruise, hard enough to hurt.

“He could be a good match for you,” the King said. Nicholas snorted, and the King shook his head, his mouth set in a firm line. “I’m serious. I meant what I told him before, and I still do. Katayama places a high premium on integrity, and you’re a terrible liar. I needed him to realize that I’d set you up as much as I’d set him up, otherwise he’d never trust you.” The King got up, pacing before the empty fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back. “I knew that if I approached Katayama informally, he’d never take you seriously. It had to be before the court, and you had to be out of the loop. That way he could see my intentions were true and, more importantly, he could see that _your_ intentions were. The way you spoke to him left no doubt of the genuine nature of your feelings.”

_Not that it made any difference._

“Your plan went spectacularly,” said Nicholas flatly, his face burning. “He spent the entire morning listing my every flaw for the whole court to hear.”

“And yet in about an hour he’ll be sitting on the balcony, waiting for you.” Robert gave a wry smile. “I asked around, and one thing I’ve learned is that Katayama is a stickler for rules,” he said. “He stands on ceremony, and the more nervous he is about something, the more inflexible he becomes.” 

“The most powerful dragon of his age.” Nicholas gave a disbelieving laugh. “Why the hell would he be nervous around _me_?”

Robert gave him a look. “You’re a princess, and he _knows_ it, despite all his protests to the contrary,” he said. “And, unless I miss my mark, all his powers haven’t helped him gain one.”

“I’m the last princess in the world he’d want,” said Nicholas, frowning.

“We’ll see about that,” said the King. “Now go get ready. I want you to make him wait, but not too long.”

“I haven’t said I’ll do it.” But as soon as he spoke Nicholas had a vision of Katayama’s mighty head brought low, the limp cast of his ears as he admitted that not a single offer of his had been accepted, the way his talons had flexed against the stone, almost as though he was afraid. 

The King cocked his own head, silently waiting, and suddenly Nicholas knew why he’d been allowed to eavesdrop, a practice the King usually rewarded with no dessert for a week.

“ _Fine_ ,” Nicholas snapped, furious at the King, at Katayama, at the whole situation, but most of all, at himself, for once again giving a shit about someone who had proven at length they couldn’t care less about him. “This dinner is going to be a clusterfuck, and I refuse to accept responsibility for the actions of that prick.” 

“But you’ll do it,” said the King, and Nicholas sighed.

“I’ll do it,” he said grimly, and went to get ready, feeling as though he were preparing for battle.


	3. Chapter 3

Nicholas stared at his reflection, tugging the rich emerald fabric over his crotch. 

What lay underneath the tunic left little to the imagination, and the thought of Katayama inadvertently getting an eyeful was enough to make him wince. “Are the tights _really_ necessary?” he asked. 

Jhordie shrugged, giving him a sympathetic smile. “At least you have nice legs,” he said. 

Nicholas had barely made it back to his rooms when Jhordie had arrived at his door, the aforementioned tights neatly folded over one arm. The King was leaving nothing to chance, apparently, and had sent over Jesse’s valet to make sure Nicholas was up to snuff, which was just about as much fun as the time Jesse insisted that Nicholas would look better with a pixie cut and had done the deed himself, and when Gene saw Nicholas he laughed so hard he cried.

The past hour had been torture, but Jhordie had saved the worst for last. 

“Now stop putting me off and tilt your head back,” he chided, as a pair of scissors gleaming threateningly in his fingers. “I’ve got to get that cowlick in the front or the King will never let me hear the end of it.”

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we,” grumbled Nicholas, settling down in his seat as he leaned back into Jhordies’ capable hands with a helpless sense of inevitability. 

All too soon the carnage was over, little bits of brown scattered over the floor. Nicholas glanced in the mirror again and hummed in the back of his throat. Jhordie hadn’t done too bad, considering. His hair was still untamed, but in a _stylish_ way-- more like Gene’s fashionable bedhead than his usual fluffy disaster. 

“It actually looks-- okay?” Nicholas said, and Jhordie laughed. 

“Don’t sound so surprised. This _is_ my job, you know,” he said. 

There was a knock on the door, and to his surprise he heard Sally’s voice, asking if he was ready for her to escort him to dinner. “My work here is done,” Jhordie said to him with a bow of his head. “Good luck.” And he slipped out as Nicholas’ guard at arms slipped in, closing the door behind her. 

Nicholas made to get up, but Sally pressed a palm to his chest, gently pushing him back into his seat. “I need to clarify some things with you before we head down,” she said, regarding him with her usual cool, steady gaze. “And I love the tights. Aiming to show Katayama what he’s missing?”

“Exactly _none_ of this was my idea.” Nicholas rolled his eyes. “But thanks, Sally.”

Sally gave a dry cough, leaning back against the door with her hip out, scabbard jutting into the doorway. “Seriously, though, Nicholas. What _is_ the plan tonight? What’s this bullshit I keep hearing about an alliance between you and Katayama suddenly on the table again, after that shitstorm earlier?”

 _Should have expected this._ Sally tended to be overprotective at the best of times, and her face as he had marched out of the throne room earlier had held a conflicting mixture of pride and terror on it. 

“It’s no use,” he told her. “I already promised the King I’d go.”

“Potential endgame?” she asked, blunt as her sword was keen. 

“For some unknown reason, dad seems to think we’d be good together. He had some elaborate theory about why he had to spring me on Katayama and everything.” Nicholas shrugged. “Something about making sure Katayama treated the offer with the consideration it deserved. I still don’t get why he picked him of _all_ dragons, though.”

Sally ran a finger down her hilt. “Guilt,” she said, eyes on her sword.

Nicholas blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” said Sally. “I served with your father in the field, back when he was trying to pass muster as an ordinary soldier. Even then, he had an overdeveloped sense of right and wrong, and it’s only gotten worse.” Sally left her post by the door, pacing over to the window and peering out through the shutters. “Nicholas, he left you to fend for yourself for most of your childhood. I’m not casting judgement, but there’s no getting around it. The situation with the Queen, God rest her soul, was complicated, but nevertheless Robert did you a great injustice, and he feels it deeply.”

“But I’ve forgiven him,” Nicholas blurted out, for he hated the thought of his father hurting in any capacity. “I forgave him long ago.”

“How he treated you will always stand as one of the biggest regrets of his life,” Sally said, closing the shutters with a snap. “You may have forgiven him, but he’ll _never_ forgive himself.”

Nicholas whistled. “So he’ll set me up with Katayama, whose magical abilities surpass any of his kind in living memory, to make it up to me? That’s a hell of a theory, Sally.”

“I’ve fought _with_ and _for_ your father his entire life,” said Sally firmly. “It’s not a theory. It’s a fact.” 

“Too bad his genius idea blew up in my face,” Nicholas said. 

“Did it?” Sally tapped a fingernail on her sword belt. “The Robert I remember on the battlefield was an excellent strategist, second to none. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is all going _exactly_ according to plan.”

“Wait-- you think I might end up shackled to that asshole for real?”

“You didn’t seem too down on Katayama a moment ago,” said Sally, with a wry grin. “What happened to the most talented dragon of our time?”

“I can admire his prowess without wanting a partner whose words cut as neatly as his claws,” said Nicholas irritably.

“I don’t think he’s truly the creature he presented himself as this morning,” said Sally, pinching her lower lip between her fingers. “As far as his abilities go, yes. But did you see his mane?”

Nicholas snickered. “A total _wreck_."

“Quite,” said Sally. “I found it telling that one of his stature would present himself at court in that way.”

“It’s a sign of his arrogance,” said Nicholas.

“Perhaps. Or it could be that he doesn’t have anyone in his life he trusts enough to preen him,” said Sally, and Nicholas frowned. Dragons were for the most part invincible, scaled in their own personal armor and equipped with talons and fangs any knight would envy, but their manes covered one of their few weaknesses-- the hinge between jaw and neck. For a dragon to allow someone to touch them there required a degree of intimacy usually only found between close friends, or between a dragon and their princess. 

“Quit trying to make me feel sorry for Katayama,” he said. “And so what if he doesn’t, it’s no wonder he hasn't made any friends with _that_ attitude.”

“But which came first?” Sally asked quietly. “The attitude, or the loneliness? Being so powerful can be terribly alienating, you know. Before you and Gene came, Jesse was much the same way, using his pride as a shield so he wouldn’t have to be vulnerable.”

She looked down at him, raising an eyebrow, and it was only then that Nicholas realized his fingers had ventured, seemingly of their own accord, to fiddle with the tooled leather bag Jhordie had tied to his girdle. He gave a tug to the string that held the bag together and placed his hand back at his side, striving to keep his face blank. While Jhordie had been busy fussing with his hair, Nicholas had snuck Katayama’s feather inside, for reasons even _he_ wasn’t sure of, and though there were no means by which she could know that, Sally gave a pleased grin.

“Tights or no, if I was a dragon, I’d say you look good enough to eat. There’s no need to be nervous.”

“I’m _not_ nervous! And if Katayama thinks he can sink his teeth into me, he’s got another thing coming.”

“The kind of biting he’d want to do you’d welcome, I think,” said Sally, and Nicholas shifted in his seat, pulling at his tights uncomfortably. “But that leads me to the last thing I wanted to say.”

Sally loomed over him, the grin gone as quickly as it had appeared, her mouth settled into a severe line. “I don’t give a fuck about rude,” she said. “But Katayama could have seriously injured you, or even killed you, before I so much as unsheathed my sword. Don’t you _ever_ put yourself in that position again, or so help me God, if the dragon doesn’t kill you, _I_ will.”

Nicholas stared up at her, his eyes wide. “I won’t,” he said, suddenly unsure who would win in a match up between Sally and Katayama after all. “Promise.”

“Good,” she said briskly. “Let’s go.”

And Nicholas stood, yanking down his tunic uselessly over his tights for the umpteenth time, and followed her as docile as a lamb to the slaughter.

**************************

True to his word, the King had arranged Katayama’s second meeting with Nicholas in the small balcony overlooking the Great Hall, where the Court could see their detente take place in real time, but far enough away that they couldn’t hear the lurid particulars. 

Nicholas’ gaze had stuck to the enclosed gallery from the moment he had entered the hall, but he hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of the dragon inside, which was no more than he expected. Dragons traditionally disdained showing their human sides to anyone, excepting close and trusted friends, and of course, their mates. Being human made them feel exposed, Gene had explained, weak, even though they could access their magic at any time, no matter their form.

“That’s why it’s such a big deal that Katayama agreed to this dinner,” he whispered to Nicholas as he and Jesse greeted him at the entrance to the hall. “He must really feel bad about how he acted before. Maybe you should go easy on him.”

“Not a chance,” said Jesse, with a nasty grin. “An ego that size could use a little groveling, if you ask me.” 

At Nicholas’ answering snigger Gene rolled his eyes. “Sometimes it’s disgustingly obvious you two are related,” he said. “And you’re the last one to talk about egos, princess.”

“I suppose you’re the epitome of modesty, Labao?” Jesse said, rounding off on Gene, and then Sally touched the edge of his tunic, and Nicholas turned reluctantly from their squabbling to face the crowd inside. There was little else he hated more than being on display like this, and as every head in the hall turned to watch him ascend the grand staircase, he was thankful more than ever for Sally’s place at his side; indeed, the squeeze of her hand at the top was all that kept him from commiting a swift about face and sprinting straight back to his room. 

Nicholas Cox did not run. He squared his shoulders and opened the door, while Sally hung back to guard the entrance, and when he stepped through a slender figure rose to meet him. As the dragon stepped out of the shadows Nicholas was struck by one singular fact: Katayama, despite his prim fastidiousness and sour humor, wasn’t nearly as old as he had seemed. In fact, unless his eyes deceived him, the dragon was only a little older than Nicholas himself.

Katayama had sharp, stern features, that fit his sharp, stern personality-- his mouth curved down as if it fell into that position naturally, and his eyebrows arched in aggressive points above midnight eyes that reflected iridescent green in the light of the candles. His hair was as raven black as his feathers, and as messy, falling back into the same disarray no matter how many times he dragged his fingers through it, scowling. He was taller than Nicholas, but only by an inch or so, and his back was straight as an arrow, that harsh mouth settling into a firm, disapproving line at Nicholas’ approach.

“Nicholas,” the dragon said tightly, giving an elegant inclination of his head. “Our meeting earlier was... _unfortunate_. I was distressed to hear that you found my candor offensive. For that, princess, I offer my sincerest condolences. Please permit me to commence our courtship properly, as I should have done before.” 

Katayama’s obsidian eyes were the same in this form as they were in his natural one, as direct and remorseless as his posture. With a monumental effort, Nicholas swallowed the barbed words that rose up in his throat in reply to the apology-that-wasn’t, and offered the dragon his hand. Instead of taking it to shake, however, the dragon turned Nicholas' hand palm up and lifted it to his face, where he kissed Nicholas’ bare wrist, a mere brush of his lips against skin stretched over a pulse that was entirely too fast all of a sudden. 

The dragon held Nicholas’ hand a fraction longer, inhaling deep and slow, taking his time, and even though he normally found the Great Hall chill, Nicholas swallowed hard as a tongue of fire ran up his chest, turning his breathing shallow and making his cheeks flush.

When Katayama released his hand, those dark eyes returned to scour his face, and the dragon must have liked what he saw there, for he stood a trifle less stiff, the severe line of his mouth relaxing just a hair, softening his face, and Nicholas wondered, for a brief instant, what it might be like to -- 

Down below someone gave a raucous whistle, and at once everything was as it had been before, the dragon uptight and uneasy, as rigid as if he had just sat on a pin. 

“This is a farce,” he muttered under his breath, and Nicholas felt his stomach sink. 

_I can’t believe Sally had me almost feeling generous towards him._

Remembering his promise to her, Nicholas made a noncommittal noise, hoping to smooth Katayama’s ruffled feathers, but it backfired, for the dragon narrowed those midnight eyes, and his scowl only became deeper. “I can’t believe the King is insisting on this dinner when he could simply announce our liaison without all these--” Here he paused, his mouth twisted in disgust. “ _Theatrics_. He’s the _King_ , he doesn’t rule with the consent of his subjects. Who cares what they think.”

“He wants to make it seem believable,” said Nicholas, giving a half shrug. 

“No part of this fiasco is even remotely believable,” Katayama sneered, glaring at Nicholas like it was his idea. “As if I would _ever_ consider tying myself to _\--”_

“As if I’d ever want a courtship with someone who’d just as soon bite my head off as woo me,” said Nicholas, before he could think the better of interrupting a dragon powerful enough to create objects from whole cloth for the second time that day. 

_Sorry, Sally._

“ _Liar._ You were weak at the knees from my display alone,” Katayama said, with a vicious smirk. “You could scarcely look me in the eye, and _if_ I had accepted the King's proposal, you’d be snug in my cave even now.”

A wave of rage, white hot as the center of a newly forged sword, enveloped Nicholas, scalding him from his head to his toes. “Yes,” he said, his voice low and savage. “I was impressed. And then you _spoke_ , humiliating me in front of everyone for no reason except your own ego, and I realized I’d rather be alone forever than to be stuck with a dragon as cold and cruel as you.” Nicholas walked right up to the dragon then, his chin held high, defiant, and he noted with pleasure that the smirk had vanished. “You’ll _never_ find a princess who’ll accept you. All you care about is yourself.”

A muscle in Katayama’s cheek jumped, but otherwise his face was motionless, still as a cloudless sky, though his eyes burned with a silent fire. “I wouldn’t worry about the relationships of your betters,” he said, his hands balled into fists. “I’m sure a little heathen like you will never attract a dragon in the first place, so it’s really none of your concern, now, is it?” 

Nicholas opened his mouth to tell Katayama, in great detail, just what he could do with his patronizing attitude, when out of the corner of his eye he noticed a flicker of movement. The murmurings in the hall had dwindled, and their conversation had grown in volume, so that people were beginning to stare. Katayama glowered out at the crowd, and as the King lifted his gaze upwards to the balcony, Katayama’s mouth pressed into a sullen, resigned line-- if Nicholas had to guess, there was nothing the black dragon despised more than being part of a public scene. "It’s foolish to make this personal,” he growled softly, turning his back on the stares. “We should restrict ourselves to the arrangement we’re here to discuss.”

“What exactly _is_ the arrangement?” asked Nicholas, realizing that he hadn’t actually overhead the details of the King’s proposal. 

“King Robert is concerned that you may become the victim of a kidnapping, much as his son has, since you are often found in the Heir’s vicinity. He wants me to provide protection for the both of you, under the guise of courtship, so that no one notices his worry and mistakes it for weakness.”

“I can take care of myself,” Nicholas said heatedly, brindling at the implication that he needed assistance, least of all from Katayama, and the dragon raised one of those narrow eyebrows, the edge of his mouth curling up for the briefest instant.

“I’m sure you can,” he said, amusement glinting in his strange eyes, and Nicholas bit the inside of his cheek.

 _Fuck you. He only came up with this stupid plan because it would let you save face, so you wouldn’t have to admit the fact that no one’s wanted you,_ ever _._

Nicholas opened his mouth, drawing in a ragged breath, but before he could unleash his fury the dragon had captured his hand again, bringing it up to his lips with rough fingers, his mouth much too soft for one whose words cut deeper than daggers. 

“Stand down, Nicholas Cox," Katayama said gently against his palm, midnight eyes serious once more. "I am not calling you coward, far from it. I only just met you, but if battles were fought by spirit alone, I suspect you’d always be the victor. But the fact remains that you are a princess, not made for such things, and as long as I am your dragon, I will remain between you and any that seek to cause you harm.”

The hall had gone all hazy with heat again, and Nicholas could feel the blush inching up his neck, where it no doubt stood out vivid against the green. Everything he had been going to say to the dragon, the tirade boiling in his blood just moments ago, had evaporated. There was only Katayama before him, still holding his palm, pressing his nose into the center and taking another deep breath. “The King assured me you approved of this arrangement, but I’m afraid I must hear it from you directly,” he said. “Is my offer acceptable to you?”

“Yes,” Nicholas replied, barely able to hear himself over the roaring of blood in his ears. The dragon was very close, close enough for Nicholas to catch the tail end of his scent. 

_He smells of spice, even as a human._

“Good,” said Katayama. “You should proceed me to the table, as befits your rank, and after an appropriate interval I shall make my entrance alone. After dinner we can then leave together for my lair, as is customary.” 

"You want me to stay in your lair?" Nicholas asked, dazed. “But won’t it be dark?” In his quarters at the palace he had a fire burning at all hours. The one night it had gone out, he hadn’t slept a wink, just stared into the blackness and shivered in a heap of blankets, alone.

The dragon looked up from where he had been, for lack of a better word, scenting Nicholas' wrist. "There's no need for concern," he said. "My lair is well furnished, with plenty of light, and I have quarters ready and waiting. I have been preparing for quite some time." The bridge of his nose was the slightest pink. "Not for you, of course," he added thoughtlessly, and Nicholas flinched.

"Of course," he said, yanking his hand away, ignoring the dragon's confused expression, and turned to go downstairs.

“I’ll see you there,” he said over his shoulder, managing not to slam the door behind him, but only just.

Sally gave him a concerned look, but he shook his head. "I'm fine," he said.

She went down the stairs before him, and Nicholas held back for a moment, curious, but when he brought his hand up to sniff it, he found nothing there to captivate a dragon: there was only the soap Jhordie had made him use, the leather from his girdle, and the faintest tinge, musky and sweet, of nutmeg.

Going down the stairs took a lot less time than going up had, and soon he was on the floor of the Great Hall, striding behind Sally. Nicholas kept his eyes down and his shoulders up, paying no heed to the blur of faces and stares, until he got to the head of the table. He and Katayama had a seat of honor across from the Heir himself, who was busy glaring at Gene.

 _Are they_ still _bickering?_

Nicholas sank down into his seat at the table, all too conscious of the empty chair at his left. Across from him Gene and Jesse paused, midargument, to stare at him with wide eyes. 

“He lives,” announced Gene, and Jesse elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut it, stupid,” he hissed, and leaned over the table, elbows planted and chin firmly on his hands. “Are you okay?” he asked, his blue eyes still huge. “There was some shouting earlier--”

“And some _kissing,_ ” Gene said in a singsong. “I thought you didn’t like Katayama,” he said slyly. 

“I didn’t kiss him,” Nicholas said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, he kissed _you_ \--”

“On the _hand--”_

“I could see how red you turned from here,” Gene crowed, and Nicholas hugged himself, his neck going a furious pink. “I can’t exactly blame you though-- he sure is striking as a human, isn’t he?” 

“Good God, Gene, leave him alone, would you?” Jesse said. “You take things too far sometimes.”

“No I don’t,” Gene said. “It’s not my fault that you’re both too fucking delicate for this world.”

“Just because you have no sense of decorum--” Jesse began loftily, and Nicholas pushed up from the table before the fight really got going. 

“I’m going to get some wine,” he said.

“See? I’m trying to be supportive, and you’ve already managed to drive him away!” cried Jesse. Gene made an exceptionally rude noise in reply, and Nicholas sighed.

“I’ll be back,” he said. _Unfortunately. There isn’t enough alcohol in the castle to get me through this dinner._

The servants would pour the King’s own wine at the meal itself, uncorking various ancient and storied vintages to impress the crowd, but at the other end of the hall there was a long table of appetizers and home brewed cordials from the village for those who wanted a nip before supper. Nicholas had never been able to tell the difference between the finest red and the cheapest moonshine, so he might as well fill up on the one as on the other.

He was busily pouring out what smelled like raspberry wine, wrinkling his suddenly itching nose, when two nobles approached the table, chattering along. 

As they waited for him to top off his goblet, they continued chatting, and apparently they hadn’t recognized who they stood behind, for their topic of conversation was none other than Nicholas himself.

“Katayama’s well on his way to ruining another match,” one courtier said, laughing. “Handsome as hell no matter what form he takes, but can’t find a princess to save his life.”

“After seeing his behavior first hand, I can understand why,” said the other. “What an awkward, ill-mannered monster. He’ll be lonely forever, no doubt.” He shook his head, and they both chuckled, the sound falling on Nicholas’ ears like the scrape of a rusty blade on a whetstone.

“How’s about a gentleman’s wager on the length of the engagement?” one of them asked, and Nicholas turned so quickly that he spilled half the wine from his goblet. “How about you attending your own business,” he said.

“Princess,” they said in unison. “We did not see you there,” said the first. “Else--”

“Yes, I know,” said Nicholas, rubbing his nose irritably. “Or else you would have filled my ears with falsehoods of the greatness of my intended. Katayama may be rude, but at least he’s _honorable_ , which is more than I can say for you. I am sure you’d never _dare_ say those thoughts of yours to his face.”

“Can you blame us?” asked the second. “We don’t want to get eaten.”

“Did it ever occur to you,” Nicholas said, “that if you can only say something behind someone’s back, maybe you ought to remain silent?” 

The two nobles bowed nervously. “Our sincerest apologies, princess,” one said, and they made as if to go. Nicholas opened his mouth, aiming to leave them with a parting shot to remember him by, but a violent sneeze came out instead. When he went back to the wine to fill up his goblet again, an inky black feather lay on the table, twin to the one in his satchel, and the mere sight of it triggered another round of sneezing.

_What the hell?_

When he returned to the table, Katayama had arrived, along with the first course. Jesse had on his polite face, and Gene looked like he was reining himself in, due undoubtedly to the slender hand the Heir had placed on his arm as much as anything else. The three appeared in the midst of an intense conversation, but as soon as he sat down Katayama turned towards him.

“Did I upset you, before?” the dragon asked, his dark eyes narrowed. “I didn’t mean to hold your hand quite so long, but your scent is particularly fascinating to me. I will be conscious of your sensitivity from now on, I assure you,” Katayama finished solemnly, and to his horror, Nicholas could feel himself starting to blush again. 

“Don’t trouble yourself,” he said, grabbing the goblet he had just set down and downing half of it in one gulp. As he set it down on the tablecloth, something pressed down firm and deliberate on the toe of his boot. 

“Nicholas,” said Jesse. The something pressed harder. “Remember the last time you had a bit too much, at the Solstice, and--”

“Now _that_ was a party.” Gene clinked his glass against Nicholas’ and took a swig himself. “That dragon was so pissed, and I’ve never seen anyone turn quite that shade of purple--” 

“Now is _not_ the time, Gene,” Jesse hissed through clenched teeth, nodding his head towards the dragon. “We are entertaining a _guest_.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, _Jess,”_ said Gene, giving a cry of displeasure as Jesse neatly snatched the glass from his hand and poured its contents into his own, where Nicholas knew from long experience it would sit the rest of the meal, untouched.

“I would welcome any opportunity to learn more about my princess,” the dragon said, watching the proceedings intently. 

“See?! He wants to know!” Gene said, vindicated, and then yelped, and Nicholas guessed Jesse hadn’t been quite so gentle when he stepped on Gene. 

Nicholas twisted his fingers on the edge of his cloth napkin. “I’d rather not talk about that here,” he said, before the situation completely disintegrated. 

Katayama studied him with those iridescent eyes. “You are private,” he said. “I understand. We will have plenty of time at my lair to get to know one another, far from the bustle of the court.”

“Oh yes,” said Gene, dancing in his seat to avoid Jesse’s wrath, “At your _lair._ Alone. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of deep _conversations_ \--” 

“ _Very_ deep.” The dragon nodded approvingly, setting his fork and knife down by his plate, as precisely as the napkin he had laid in the exact center of his lap. “And _very_ thorough.”

And just when Nicholas thought the night couldn’t get much worse, his nose began itching again, abominably, and he exploded into a savage trio of sneezes, each louder than the last.

“Nicholas,” said Jesse, and Gene was digging around for his handkerchief, and then candles guttered, their flames shrinking and then dwindling to the merest pinpricks as though a wind had wound through the banquet hall. The moment before they came back full force was an eternity, the hall forming one long, giant shadow, filled with pockets of pitch black near the vaulted ceiling. Nicholas had gotten used to living in the castle for the most part, but sometimes it was like he could feel the weight of all the centuries that people had lived here, lived and _died_ here, and--

_Anything could be lurking up there. Anything._

Nicholas forced his gaze down, steadying himself on the side of the table and taking a deep breath. His skin crawled in that particular way that meant someone was staring at him, and when the light came back he surveyed the table, to find himself once more the object of the dragon’s undivided attention.

“Princess,” Katayama said, sharp eyebrows bunched together, and Nicholas felt a creeping tickle in his chest. As he gave another enormous sneeze the candles flickered again, and this time after their sputtering they all went out, all at once, plunging the room into an eerie, absolute darkness.

 _Ghosts aren’t real, they aren’t_ real _and I’m not alone, Jesse and Gene won’t let--_

Someone touched his shoulder then, someone or something, and Nicholas _screamed_.

A warm, spicy gust of wind blew down the length of the Hall, humid and gentle, and before he could take breath to scream again he was hoisted into strong arms, one winding around his waist as a hand clamped down on his hip, pressing him firmly against a long, lean torso. There was an earsplitting crack from the table and then Nicholas found himself curled around the owner of that familiar scent, shaking, his nose buried in a shirt soft and light as a feather, his chest itching like he had swallowed wool.

“My patience is at an end,” Katayama called out in warning, and Nicholas could feel the rumble of that deep voice underneath his cheek. He squirmed at the stark realization of just _whose_ lap he was in, which only caused the dragon to tighten his grip, and murmur, in a low, soothing tone: “Do not be alarmed. You shall not come to harm, princess.”

The lights came back on, revealing innumerable pale faced courtiers, all staring before them at the very center of the table, where a man was floating wrong side up inside a small tornado. Though the wind tore at his hair and clothes, the table itself and those seated beneath him remained untouched. Across from them Gene had gotten half out of his chair, and was leaning protectively in front of Jesse, panting, his breath coming out in clouds of white; Jesse’s blue eyes were round and terrified, but Gene’s were narrow and furious, his teeth bared in a silent snarl.

Jesse’s wine, which had apparently frozen solid in his goblet, was steaming ever so slightly, but that was the only thing on the table that had been affected.

“It was a joke!” the man cried, giving what could have been a plaintive look in Katayama’s direction, though it was hard to tell from upside down.

Katayama’s eyes flashed green, his hair whipping across his face, and a prickly growling was coming from him, much louder than it had any right to be, given that he was still in his human form. The arm that wasn’t wrapped securely around Nicholas was held, elbow bent and palm out before him, and what looked like a tiny whirlwind circling around it, wild and mad and somehow perfectly under control. 

He lifted his palm slightly and the man rose smoothly into the air, revolving right under one of the chandeliers. 

“Among our kind, perhaps, such a thing is permissible,” the dragon said. “But to commit this folly before a princess--” Katayama gave another of his rumbling growls. “He’s _terrified_ of the dark and you _frightened_ him.” 

“No he didn’t,” said Nicholas immediately, face gone pink. “I’m not afraid of the--”

“I frightened a princess,” jeered the man. “ _And?_ The King and his Princess wasted _all_ our time by summoning us here. Why should I give a damn about them, when they care so little for us?”

“You didn’t just frighten _a_ princess,” Katayama said, a peculiar clicking starting up in the back of his throat, and the man’s face turned as wan and ashen as the nobles below him. “You frightened _my_ princess, and if you had lost control of your magic, you could have _hurt_ him.” 

“I didn’t know he was yours,” the man said desperately, but it was too late, for the wind around him began making an eerie whistling noise, and he started to rise to the reaches of the arched ceiling, wriggling and desperate as a worm on a hook, a wordless, pitiful whimpering coming from him, and--

There was a thud, deliberate and heavy, on the table.

“I appreciate your zeal, Katayama, in dealing with your wayward kinsman,” said the King calmly, lifting his hand from where he had set his goblet down. “But I believe Marcel understands the error of his ways now, don’t you, Marcel?”

“ _Yes_ ,” said Marcel, nodding vigorously. “Very much so.”

Katayama gave another growl, this one somewhat subdued, and lowered Marcel none too gently to the floor, where the other dragon (for so he must be, Nicholas realized, to be Katayama’s kinsman) grasped a table leg in relief, as if afraid he might float off up to the ceiling again otherwise. 

The whirlwind around Katayama’s hand vanished into thin air as rapidly as it had appeared, and Nicholas, whose entire being had been consumed with itching for the past few interminable minutes, gave a sigh of blissful relief.

The sound seemed to remind his dragon that he was there, for Katayama’s arm tightened around Nicholas’ shoulders, and he bent his neck to face Nicholas full on, his eyes an unsettling black overlaid with translucent green.

“You're under _my_ protection now, Nicholas Cox,” he said. “Therefore you have nothing to fear. Do you understand, princess?” His eyes swirled unnervingly, still that odd, shimmering mix of colors, and even though the entirety of the banquet hall’s attention rested solely on him, as it had since Marcel’s abrupt ascent, his own gaze never wavered from Nicholas’ face. 

After a long moment Nicholas realized he was waiting for a response. “Yes,” he whispered, the blush still vivid on his cheeks. At that the Court let out a glad hum, like a swarm that had discovered a winter’s worth of honey, the nobles taking to their seats, grinning and elbowing each other, and why did the King look so pleased? 

It was only then that Katayama let Nicholas go, and his luck was truly cursed, for in all the furor the feather had come half out of his bag, and the dragon’s fingertips brushed against it, and those strange eyes widened, as raven brows lifted up and Katayama took a sharp breath and--

“That’s _mine_ , isn’t it?” he asked.

But as far as the rest of the hall was concerned, the fireworks were over, and they had returned to the feast with a vengeance, clashing their cutlery and resuming a dozen little conversations, and Nicholas dropped into his seat, picking up the fork like it was a lifesaver. “I think we should finish eating, don’t you?” he said.

“It’s from this morning,” Katayama continued, ignoring him utterly. “It’s from this morning and you _kept_ it.” 

“It must have fallen into my satchel,” said Nicholas. 

“You weren’t wearing these clothes before. You were in much rattier condition.”

“Thanks for pointing that out,” he said, gritting his teeth. “And speaking of ratty--”

“I think it’s sweet that you kept it, Nicholas,” said Jesse, as he examined his goblet with a curious eye. “Why do you think mine’s the only one that froze?” he asked Gene, who didn’t lift his gaze from where he was tracing a pattern in the tablecloth with his knife, deliberate and focused.

“Shouldn’t you be asking Katayama that?” he said.

“I am a wind dragon,” said Katayama. “My magic does not govern the forces of water.”

“Do you think,” Jesse said, a look of pure euphoria on his face, “that maybe the golden dragon was here toni--”

“No!” said Gene, and he jabbed the knife into the linen hard enough to rip the threads out.

“I bet he froze the goblet protecting me,” said Jesse, his blue eyes wider than ever, a smile tugging at the end of his mouth. “If he’s a water dragon, maybe he could freeze the lake in summer. We could go skating together--”

“I think that the golden dragon has plenty better things to do than freeze some dumb pond for a starry eyed princess,” said Gene nastily, and Jesse winced, the smile disappearing.

“Why are you always so cruel to me,” he said, tensing his jaw. “I’d never speak to you in that beastly way, _ever_.” 

“I’m never that _stupid_ , so there’s no need _._ God save me,” snarled Gene, “from self centered princesses, who only ever consider how things affect them, and no one else.” This outburst only served to upset Jesse even more, and he slammed his glass down and stormed off without even a goodbye. 

“You’re being pretty unfair, don’t you think?” asked Nicholas, and Gene groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. 

“It’s complicated,” he said, and Nicholas frowned, but before he could elaborate Katayama rose to his feet, dropping a hand on Nicholas’ shoulder.

“I think we should retire to the lair now,” he said, dark eyes studying Nicholas’ face. “I have had enough excitement for one night.”

Nicholas would _never_ admit it, not in a thousand years, but after the past hour he felt much the same, although he’d prefer his room to a cave, if given the choice. “But we haven’t even started the second course,” he said, feeling compelled to make at least a token protest. “Won’t it look bad to leave?” 

“After the way Katayama claimed you just now?” asked Gene. “No one will question it. In fact, they’re probably wondering why he hasn’t dragged you off already to seal the deal.”

“ _Gene_ ,” Nicholas said, mortified, and Katayama’s fingers sank into his triceps. 

“You may be coarse and crude to _your_ princess, but I will not suffer you to use such vulgarity around mine,” he said icily, dark eyes boring holes into Gene, who looked suitably chastised.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was out of line.”

“It’s fine,” said Nicholas. “Just, please Gene, promise you’ll go talk to him.”

Gene groaned again. “Alright, alright,” he said. “I’ll talk to him. Provided he doesn’t start bawling all over me again, like last time.”

“I know you think he’s too sensitive, but sometimes he’s right, you know. You push too hard, and go too far.”

“I know,” said Gene morosely, and headed off to find Jesse, dragging his feet every inch of the way.

“Come with me, princess,” said Seiji impatiently, drawing him back up the stairs to the balcony, where they’d fought like wildcats what seemed like a decade or so ago.

“Shouldn’t I bring a change of clothes, or…?”

“No,” said Katayama, tugging him to the center of the balcony. “We are to be back at the palace tomorrow.”

_But what about pyjam--_

And then Nicholas’ train of thought fractured in a million or so pieces, give or take, as Katayama wound his arms around him, bringing him flush against the dragon’s chest for the second time that night.

“What are you--”

“The closer your physical proximity, the easier I will find it to manifest us both to my lair,” said Katayama, his spicy scent all Nicholas could smell. He was warm and strong and, to Nicholas’ everlasting regret, as gorgeous a human as he was a dragon, and he had kissed Nicholas tonight, twice. 

Nicholas remembered the way that mouth felt on his skin and shivered. 

The dragon clenched his arms around Nicholas, burying his nose in Nicholas’ hair and inhaling, deep and slow. “In my arms is the safest place in the castle, you know,” he said, his breath tickling Nicholas’ neck. “Even the King can’t protect you like I can.” 

“I’m not scared,” Nicholas said into his chest. 

“No one will _dare_ touch you once we’re home,” continued the dragon, as if he had said nothing at all. “Not unless they have a death wish.” Nicholas felt his nose twitch then, and that was the only warning he had before the balcony, and indeed, the entire court, was covered in a whirlwind of feathers, and vanished from his sight.


	4. Chapter 4

Nicholas clung to Katayama, his eyes squeezed shut, the wind whistling in his ears like a tornado. The dragon’s silky plumage whipped around his skin while a sneeze tickled in his chest something fierce; one moment the gale roared around him like a great beast, and then the next, the air was quiet and still.

On the castle grounds, the weather was dry, with a bone deep cold underneath, but when Nicholas drew in a breath, he tasted moisture: moisture and a pleasant warmth, like the sun on his skin the first day of spring.

“Princess,” said the dragon softly. “We have arrived.” Katayama’s arms were still tight around Nicholas’ waist, and it was clear that the dragon would hold him as long as he wanted, which absolutely should _not_ be comforting.

When Nicholas opened his eyes, all he saw was the slender profile of Katayama’s neck, the slight outline of his Adam’s apple stirring as he swallowed, and that wasn’t too bad, so Nicholas straightened his shoulders and turned his head, deliberately avoiding looking up at the dragon, who seemed to be under the impression that he required some sort of reassurance after the shock of manifestation, which he most assuredly did _not--_

And then Nicholas saw Katayama’s lair for the first time. 

The dragon had set them down on a ledge high up the side of the cave, giving a panoramic view of the interior. The sunset streamed in through a great chasm high in the ceiling, and the whole place was on a slant, unfolding before them as though the lair stood in the cranny of some great peak, balanced on the edge of the world.

The light cast down in a towering cascade, illuminating the interior in broad strokes of gold and green, dark and light, revealing a vast expanse of what appeared to be a meadow, with trees and a river, so big that the entire castle and its moat could fit inside with room to spare, and this was a _cave_? 

No, Nicholas decided, it was more like a cathedral. The sunbeams danced down in great gilded sheets, bathing the hidden forest in light, setting out each edge of leaf and blade of grass in stark relief against the stone walls which encased everything before them in a protective embrace, shielding it from the outside.

“It’s _beautiful_ ,” he whispered, and the dragon’s arms shifted, pulling him closer.

“Yes,” Katayama said simply. “It is my sanctuary from the world.”

“I can see why,” said Nicholas. “I’d never want to leave.”

The dragon settled his nose in Nicholas’ hair once more, taking a measured breath. _He’s scenting me again._ Nicholas gripped his left wrist, feeling the tips of his ears go pink. “Thank you,” Katayama said. “I know I hastened us away from dinner, but sunset is the most splendid time to view my lair, and I did not want you to miss it.”

“But where do you sleep? In the grass?”

“I am not an animal, Nicholas.” The dragon made a chuffing noise. “I sleep in my den, of course,” he said.

“But we’re _in_ your den,” said Nicholas.

“No. These are the grounds of my lair,” said Katayama. “My den is there.” He slipped his left arm lower on Nicholas’ waist, freeing his right arm to point to an area of the meadow where the river charged over the edge of a boulder, creating a rushing waterfall that crashed into a deep, still pool. 

“I don’t see anything,” said Nicholas, and the dragon’s mouth curled at the ends, giving the tiniest hint of a smile. “You aren’t meant to,” he said, glancing down at Nicholas, who was suddenly, uncomfortably aware that he remained very much in Katayama’s embrace. 

“I bet _I_ can find the entrance,” Nicholas said, and when he stepped forward Katayama let him go easily, the corners of his mouth curling up a bit further.

“What are your terms?” he asked. 

“My terms?” asked Nicholas, half listening, already busy planning out a route to the waterfall. 

“For the bet,” said Katayama, and Nicholas turned to meet his gaze, lacing his fingers and stretching them before him until they gave a satisfying crack.

This’ll _rattle him good._

“If I win,” he said, “I get another feather.”

The narrow eyed expression on the dragon’s face gave Nicholas the same feeling he had when he scored a touch on Sally-- a sort of electric shock-- prickly, but addicting. 

“I thought you acquired mine by accident,” said Katayama accusingly.

Nicholas shrugged. “I did,” he lied. “But now that I have one, I figure I might as well get another. Maybe I’ll start a collection.” He smirked at Katayama, whose eyes had grown ever narrower, and whose cheeks had been tinted by the faintest pink blush.

“Fine.” The dragon coughed, turning to face the sunset, his shoulders up around his ears. “But if you _lose_ ,” he said, “at the place and time of my choosing, you must yield to my wishes on a matter of dispute.”

“ _Yield_?” asked Nicholas, who didn’t like the sound of this one bit. “You want me to kowtow to you in whichever argument strikes your fancy?”

“Yes. I swear on my honor, it would not involve anything hurtful to you,” said the dragon, giving a sharp smile, though he was still flushed. “Except, perhaps, to your pride.”

There was a brief silence. “Unless you are afraid of losing?” Katayama added delicately.

Nicholas met him look for look, jutting his chin in the air. “ _Never_ ,” he said, and the dragon’s smile widened. 

“Excellent,” he said, holding out his hand, and they shook on it, no kissing this time, Nicholas resolutely ignoring way his wrist felt bare and chill without the dragon’s mouth upon it. 

_It’s because he’s so bristly about everything else. It just over emphasizes the rare instances when he’s gentle._

It was natural for Nicholas to hone in on that discrepancy. 

It didn't _mean_ anything.

Nicholas stretched out his arms, yawning as his ears popped, the dragon behind him assuming his natural form to lounge on the ledge, ears pricked and tail crooked high and proud. He lay there watching, no doubt with some amusement, as Nicholas clambered down the long incline to the lair proper.

 **Careful, princess,** he said. **If you get in trouble, call out, and I will fetch you.**

Nicholas snorted. “And forfeit the bet? Nice try, Katayama,” he said, rolling up his sleeves and lowering himself down the ledge, inch by meticulous inch.

The climbing was steep and treacherous, the area that Katayama had indicated wide and vast, and Nicholas was very stubborn.

In the end, it took him an hour to give up, a dirt covered, sweaty, perfectly infuriating hour, while the sunset melted from molten gold to tawny orange to red and then finally to a brilliant indigo. The dragon had edged out to the far end of the precipice, and was regarding him silently with those midnight eyes, and Nicholas felt a surge of irritation, at the dragon, but mostly at himself, for what Sally liked to call his bulldog tenacity.

“Sometimes you need to know when to fold, Nicholas,” she’d tell him, as he lay winded on his back, after answering yet another challenge from her he hadn’t prepared for. “The smartest fighter knows when _not_ to pick up a sword.”

_I should have backed down, but it’s too late now._

“You win, Katayama,” he called out, and the dragon rose to his feet, making his way down the slope that Nicholas had crept down at a snail’s pace in a matter of seconds. 

**It was most unwise to take up the bet with me,** the dragon said. **You may have no doubt that I will collect. Though it provided me some entertainment, I will admit, to observe your pitiful attempts at climbing.**

Nicholas glared at him, wiping the mud off his forehead where it had dried and was itching furiously. “It’s hardly fair to compare my human form to your dragon one,” he said.

 **Indeed. Mine is far superior.** The dragon sniffed, giving a loud cough. **By the by, you need a bath, princess. Your scent has become incredibly** **_potent_** **.**

Nicholas’ fingers clenched on the edge of his dirty tunic. “Guess I’ll take myself down to the river then,” he said, and made for the ledge, before the dragon blocked his path.

**You cannot hope to make it down there on your own. Mount me.**

Katayama sank down onto his haunches, giving an impatient huff when Nicholas made no move to obey him. Nicholas stared at the dragon, at his sinuous, winding back, at his sharp shoulders, tipped with spiny ridges. “You want me to _ride_ you?”

**That is what I said, is it not?**

“But…”

 **Sit behind my shoulders, and clasp your arms around my neck,** said Katayama. 

“Are you sure…?

 **Yes,** said Katayama. **I am granting you permission, princess. You may place your hands under my scales, up under the ridge of my collarbone. There is enough purchase there for you to hold onto me.**

The dragon had a ridge of feathers down his spine, not as numerous or as fluffy as the ones on his mane, and somewhat better groomed. Nicholas swung his leg awkwardly over and managed to straddle it, but when he tried to lean forward he ended up doing a belly flop onto the dragon’s back. 

**Grace is not one of your strong points, I see**.

“Well, I haven’t exactly had much practice.” Nicholas floundered for a handhold in sleek feathers before he rolled right off, digging his fingers into Katayama’s mane before he could think the better of it. 

The dragon tensed beneath Nicholas’ legs. **There has been no other before me,** he said, and it wasn’t exactly a question, but it wasn’t exactly _not_ one, either, and something about his tone made Nicholas wish to take back all his teasing about the feather.

“No,” said Nicholas, his voice muted and low, and he curled his arms around Katayama’s mane without another word. 

**Tell me if you feel unsteady,** said the dragon, **and I will stop at once.** They made their way down the cave in silence, then, and Nicholas was so flustered that he forgot to pay attention, his sightline softened by feathers and darkness, so he didn’t even get to see the secret entrance he had been so eager to find. 

**We are here,** Katayama said at last, as, after many moments in twilight, they were greeted with a cheerful glow. A fire was burning in a little alcove, and they were in front of it, surrounded by the inky depths of the den. Nicholas let go of his mane, hands sliding to brace himself on the dragon’s shoulders, when his fingertips snagged on something.

There was a smooth, slender rod, about the size of a knife, sticking out of Katayama’s shoulder blades, and when Nicholas’ fingers closed on it, the dragon froze, and then bent his head to the floor, arching the great curve of his back with an enormous sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Nicholas said immediately, his fingers letting go, and the dragon groaned.

 **_Please_** **,** he said. **Put your fingers back.**

“If you insist,” Nicholas said, puzzled. When he felt the smoothness under his fingertips, he paused. 

**Pull,** the dragon instructed.

When he did so, there was a second of tension and then suddenly his hand yanked out a quill shaft the size of his finger, and the dragon gave such a loud groan he could feel it in his chest, arching his back still impossibly further, so that Nicholas’ hands were buried in the feathers once more. **Please,** he said again. **Your nails--**

Nicholas dragged them down his spine, dislodging another couple of quills, and the dragon trembled underneath him, his talons scrabbling against the stone floor, hissing low and fierce. **Yes,** he snarled with a feral delight, **_yes_** **, princess,** **_yes_** **.**

It was strange, to have laid such a powerful creature low with the touch of his hand, and it made something in Nicholas’ belly heat, made his blood rush faster in his veins, made him lean forward boldly and ask Katayama: 

“Shall I preen your ears, next?” 

The dragon sat up so fast Nicholas nearly tumbled off his back. **You are not** **_preening_ ** **me,** he said sharply. **That is** **_not_ ** **what this is. You merely offered a hand with my molt, just as I helped you down the path to my den.**

Nicholas swallowed. The heat in his hips was gone, replaced with a heavy sensation, like a great stone. “Of course,” he said dully, shoving off from the dragon’s sleek hide and sliding in a clumsy heap to the floor.

The dragon shifted his paws from side to side, his ears flicking to the side as his whiskers flattened to his jaw. **I appreciate your assistance, Nicholas. I did not mean to denigrate it. I was merely correcting you. It’s imperative to remember what our arrangement is, and what it is not.**

Nicholas curled his arms around his knees, shivering in spite of the fire. “It’s fine,” he said. 

**You must rise,** Katayama said, nudging him in the ribs with his muzzle. **You are cold, and need to sit in the hot spring.**

“You have a hot spring?” asked Nicholas, raising his head from his knees.

 **Naturally,** said the dragon, padding towards the fireplace. **The river is fed by glaciers. It would be a miserable experience to bathe in it. But first, I must show you something.**

Katayama took a great breath then, and with one gust from his mighty jaws, blew the fire out, and Nicholas gasped-- for instead of the absolute blackness of the Great Hall, the ceiling of the dragon’s cave, which stretched far above their heads, was (astonishingly, impossibly) covered with stars.

“But how…?” breathed Nicholas.

 **I told you.** Something rustled beside him, scraping against the stone, and a lean shoulder leaned against his. **You don’t need to be afraid of my lair. You don’t need to be afraid of anything,** the dragon said emphatically, **when I am at your side.**

“Is it magic?” he asked.

 **No. They are tiny insects,** said the dragon. **They use the light to attract their prey.**

The lights dazzled him, insects or no, and Nicholas stood there, the dragon by his side, all else forgotten in the face of this strange wonder. The stars radiated a blue-green luminescence, casting down to make the darkness friendly to Nicholas in a way that it had never felt before. Usually he imagined the dark lurking, anxious as a rival, lying in wait for the right moment to fall upon him like a blade in the back. The darkness in the cave, though, felt like the darkness under the covers, with Nicholas safe in his room at the castle, or like the darkness in Katayama’s eyes, mysterious yet intriguing, not scary in the least.

“I would never have believed this morning that I’d be in a dragon’s lair by nightfall,” said Nicholas, his voice small in the hush of the cavern.

 **This is merely the entrance to my den,** Katayama said. **Follow me, princess, to our living quarters.**

And he led Nicholas under the stars, down a ravine that smelled pleasantly of earth and clear, cold water, and the ceiling dropped to meet them, bringing the light closer and closer, until it was almost as bright in the cave as it would have been under a full moon.

They crawled through a small hole which opened onto the main chamber, lit up by a grand fireplace. By normal considerations it was huge, but in the context of the rest of the cave, the chamber seemed relatively small. Though Katayama was in possession of a hoard that would have put the King’s treasury to shame, everything inside was as neat as a pin. There were the usual piles of treasure, gold and jewels and crystal goblets, but in among the rest were swords, all types, which in Nicholas' opinion far outstripped the value of the rest put together.

“You fight?” he asked Katayama, striving for casual, as his eyes fell once again on an epee with a hilt that looked weighted to perfection. 

**Yes,** the dragon said. And then, because Katayama could never leave well enough alone, he added pointedly: **Only with those who are my equivalent in skill.**

“Good thing I’m a natural, then,” said Nicholas, arching an eyebrow, and the dragon snorted.

 **I’m not dueling with you, princess,** he said. 

“Afraid you’ll lose?” asked Nicholas coyly, and Katayama’s mane ruffed as he sank his talons into the stone of his lair, baring his teeth.

 **Hardly.** **The King tasked me with** **_protecting_ ** **you, you idiot. I can scarcely imagine his reaction when I explain how I’ve stabbed you instead.**

“Really? I have no trouble imagining his reaction when you’re forced to admit I bested you,” said Nicholas. This time when Katayama snorted, a lick of flame came out of his muzzle and Nicholas crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes. “And whatever the King thinks, I am perfectly capable of defending myself,” he said.

 **Oh, are you?** Katayama’s long neck craned down, until his eyes were level with Nicholas’. **Is that what was happening at dinner tonight?** he asked, needling, and Nicholas hugged himself tighter. **You** **_defending_ ** **yourself? Pardon my confusion, for when you clung to my shoulders and trembled it seemed to me as though--**

“That isn’t an honest comparison,” Nicholas interrupted furiously. “His actions were-- he was underhanded, unchivalrous. I would have taken his sword in a fair fight, no question.”

 **Fights are seldom fair, princess,** said Katayama, all hints of teasing gone. **Come, I will show you to your chambers, which are adjacent to the hot spring.**

They walked to the other side of the main chamber, where a well worn path led up to a ledge with a view of the entire room. **This is my nest.**

The dragon turned aside from the path, padding to an alcove underneath, where an area had been painstakingly cleared, all detritus swept aside, and there was an elegant four poster bed, a hearth, even a tiny stringed instrument, which Nicholas couldn’t quite identify, that resembled a harp. Alongside the bed, flagstones led around a stalactite to a vast shallow pool, stream rippling from its surface, and the heat from it called to Nicholas, though he knew he’d have to wait for Katayama to retire to use the hot springs properly, as there was nothing on earth that could induce him to strip in front of the dragon. 

The entire arrangement was, in a word, strange. It was as though someone who had no practical knowledge of a bedroom had attempted to assemble one out of thin air. The general concept was there, and everything _looked_ immaculate, but the proportions were all slightly off. The harp, for it was a harp after all, was perfectly turned out, but its size was far too small, as even a lyre would have dwarfed it-- Nicholas could have held it easily in one hand. In contrast, the bed was _huge_ , the width and breadth of Nicholas’ room at the palace, each pillow the size of a door. 

Even taking into account the mistakes, the whole effect was pleasing, as it had obviously been intended to be-- a welcome retreat from the otherwise intimidating expanse of Katayama’s immense lair. 

_This must have taken him_ forever _to do._

With a sinking feeling, Nicholas remembered a rumor that had circulated last season, much to Eugene’s unflagging amusement, of Jesse being an expert harp player (“Harp _y_ , harp _er_ ,” Eugene had said, rubbing his knuckles over Jesse’s hair while Jesse tried and failed to bite the arm keeping him trapped in Gene’s headlock. “I can see how a person could get confused.”), and then Nicholas pictured Katayama curled up in the tiny space, spending countless hours getting the neck of the instrument just right, and then learning that he had never been intended as a suitor for Jesse at all…

There was a small rasping noise underfoot, and Nicholas realized Katayama was standing at attention behind him, scraping his talons on the flagstone floor. When he turned to face him the dragon stiffened, his ruff rising.

“It’s wonderful,” Nicholas told him, and Katayama’s whiskers quivered, his mane settling back down to his shoulders.

 **Thank you,** he said cautiously. **I am glad you find it satisfactory. The bed gave me some trouble. Even now, I fear it is not quite right in terms of the dimensions.**

Nicholas eyed the fourposter, spread before him like a small, well appointed fortress. “It’s fit for a princess,” he said, meaning Jesse, but too late he realized it could be taken quite a different way, and the back of his neck went scarlet.

 _Katayama was right. This whole thing is a_ joke _. I’m no--_

 **That was my intent,** said Katayama, curling his tail neatly around his paws. **Would you like to try it out?**

“Yes,” said Nicholas, clambering up onto the sheets before the dragon noticed his blushing.

**I was unsure which rock humans enjoyed basking upon. My personal preference has always inclined towards granite, but…**

_Oh, for fuck’s sake._

The bed felt like it was made of stones and bits of hay, which he supposed it probably was. When Nicholas pointed out that humans did not in fact have any sort of rock preferences whatsoever, the dragon huffed. 

**It was never intended for sleeping, of course,** he said. **My princess sleeps in my nest, with me. Everyone knows** **_that_** **.**

“Another mindless dragon custom,” said Nicholas. “ _Excellent_. Meanwhile, I feel like I’m lying on a field of boulders.” 

The dragon shook his mane out, blowing a sharp burst of air from his snout. **I hope you don’t expect me to build a nest** **for you,** Katayama said. **I refuse to make more mockery of our rituals than I absolutely have to**. His tail was lashing back and forth in an agitated circuit, but oddly enough when Nicholas nodded, too exhausted to argue, that made him angrier still, whiskers bristling over his muzzle stiff as needles. 

“I don’t think that the king intended to upset you,” said Nicholas, rubbing his lower back where one spring (or was that a pebble?) was digging in particularly hard. He was already sorry he had brought up the condition of the bed, but the dragon’s bad mood was catching, he supposed. 

**You’re far too forgiving,** said Katayama. **If he had come to me with this plan at the outset, I would have laughed in his face, but after surprising and humiliating us both--**

“You’re blaming him for _your_ actions?” cried Nicholas.

 **King Robert is not stupid. He surely knew what my most likely reaction to such an offer would be.** Nicholas’s mouth curled down, his shoulders coming up to his ears, and Katayama paused. **I meant no offense,** he said. 

“Of course not,” said Nicholas, ripping a hay stalk into bits. “You’re just being _honest.”_

Katayama’s ears flicked to the side, his whiskers fanning back against his muzzle. **After surprising and humiliating us** **_both_** **,** he continued obstinately, **he offered this convenient little deal, which is what I suspect he wanted the entire time.**

“Are you always this cynical?” Nicholas grimaced, picking the chaff off the sheets. “Maybe the king has motivations you can only guess at, kind and loving ones that will end happily for everyone.”

Katayama stared at Nicholas, ears pricked forward, his dark dark eyes giving nothing, absolutely nothing, away.

 **I can see why the king wants you to have protection,** he said quietly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nicholas said, but Katayama just turned away, padding back up to his nest, and after a desultory rinse off in the hot spring, Nicholas climbed on the huge bed. In the end, despite his annoyance, the dragon must have felt sorry for him, for the bed was much softer than before; Katayama had used his magic to fill it with feathers so that it was only half awful as opposed to utterly unsalvageable. 

For some reason, this gesture just made Nicholas feel lonelier than ever, and he spent a long time staring at the twinkling ceiling, at the points of light there, the almost-stars, before he finally went to sleep.

************


	5. Chapter 5

************************

Waking up in the den was a disorienting experience, as it was hard to pinpoint the passage of time; the stars still shone faintly in the ceiling, and the burble of the spring in Nicholas' ears was the same as the night before. In the cave there was no natural light, but Katayama had called up the fire in the great hearth, which was probably what woke him.

That, and the roaring.

 **WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS,** the dragon bellowed, while what seemed like several elephants trampled on the ceiling repeatedly.

Nicholas groaned, crawling out of the bed, his back twinging unpleasantly from having spent half the night balanced on an exceptionally pointy rock.

When he walked out of his little alcove, Katayama was already waiting. Nicholas rubbed his eyes, blinking up at the dragon towering above him, whose mane had fluffed to its full extent. 

**Where is it,** **_princess_** **,** Katayama snarled, baring his fangs in a rather rude fashion.

“Where’s what?” asked Nicholas.

**My prize epee.**

“Oh.” _That._

**Yes.** **_Oh_** **. Most people would rather cut off their own hand than risk trifling with a dragon’s hoard.**

“I didn’t _take_ it,” said Nicholas, poking at a bruise on his hip with a sigh. “I woke up in the middle of the night, and I couldn’t get back to sleep. I was only borrowing it to practice my forms.” 

**Spoken like a true thief,** the dragon said snidely as Nicholas went back into his room, dragging out the sword from where he had laid it at the foot of the bed.

“I thought I was a _guest_ ,” Nicholas said under his breath.

 **Quit mumbling and get over here,** snapped Katayama. **You do not cast a** **blade such as this aside like so much rubbish** ** _. She_** **belongs** ** _there._** He indicated with a flick of his tail a sword mount hung above a tidy pile of gold. **And for your information,** **being a guest does not entitle you to use of my things without permission. If you had any manners, you’d know that.**

 **"** How did you even hear me?” Nicholas asked, sliding the sword gingerly into place.

 **I am a wind dragon,** Katayama said in a calmer tone, his ruff having settled as soon as the sword had been put in its proper place. **If I so choose, I can hear anything said within a certain radius, by spelling the air to bring the words to me.**

Nicholas rubbed his hip again, thinking of the courtiers last night and how much his nose had itched at the time. _Did he hear me defending him?_

Katayama had been on his best behavior, it was true. Nicholas had chalked that up to him going along with the ruse, but perhaps--

 **As we are on the subject of proper etiquette,** the dragon said, **recall that when we visit the castle, you no longer represent yourself alone. Your appearance reflects on me, and as your hair currently appears to be waging a war against the very notion of neat, I humbly request that you take the situation in hand.**

_Or not. Definitely not._

Nicholas dug his fingers into the tense muscles of his lower back. “Right,” he said, too sore after a night on granite to argue, and he went to the hot spring, dunking his head in the water and combing his fingers through his hair until it was at least somewhat less tangled.

Nicholas stopped short when he stepped out of the alcove again.

“Hurry,” Katayama said, “or we’ll be late.” He looked Nicholas up and down, giving a curt nod, and Nicholas rolled his eyes. Despite all the dragon’s fussing, _his_ hair was just as much of a disaster as it had been last night.

_He’s human again, but that must mean--_

“We aren’t going to the ledge?” asked Nicholas, disappointed. “I thought you needed to be there to manifest.”

The dragon cocked his head, the edge of his mouth turning up. “No, princess. There will be plenty of time to view the grounds when we have returned. I will take you down to the meadow then, I promise.”

Katayama held his arms out expectantly. Standing there half awake, water dripping down the nape of his neck, Nicholas took far too long to realize that the dragon wanted to hold him close, as he had the night before. In the end Katayama stepped forward, coiling himself and his sweet, spicy smell around Nicholas securely, and then taking a deep breath and scenting him again, a reflex which Nicholas suspected he wasn’t fully aware of. It was the kind of gesture he’d expect during an actual courtship, but Nicholas was grungy and groggy, in yesterday’s clothes, and though his cheeks smarted just as they had before, he knew better than to believe any dragon, much less one as grand as this one, would ever be interested in a princess like him.

Nothing Katayama did made any kind of sense to him, so he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. If the ledge made no difference, then why hadn’t Katayama manifested them in his den last night, after Nicholas lost the bet?

_Why have me mount you at all?_

But before Nicholas could think on it further, the cave was swirling and his throat felt like he’d swallowed a clump of thistle--

and the familiar sounds of Gene and Jesse mid argument were greeting his ears.

The ceiling soared above them, mellow morning light tripping over the spines of books scattered over a limitless series of shelves: Katayama had manifested them in the library, up on one of the balconies that ringed the second floor. The library itself was huge, taking up half a wing on its own, and down below Gene and Jesse hadn’t even noticed their arrival. Other than the two of them, there was no one else in the room.

Katayama shook his head in disgust. “Where is your guard at arms?”

“Sally?” Nicholas shrugged. “Were we supposed to meet her here? What are we doing, anyway? You never said.”

“ _I’m_ going to go find her. _You_ can deal with,” Katayama gestured to the two below, busy exchanging barbs, and huffed: “ _That_ , or not, as you prefer.”

“Wait, maybe I could---” _Go with you?_

But the dragon had already left him to his fate. 

_And who said chivalry is dead?_

Nicholas ran a finger under the sodden collar of his tunic, grimacing at how wet it had gotten. The worst part was, after having taken all that trouble, that his hair probably still looked like a bedraggled mess. Regardless, there was no way he was tagging along behind the dragon like some unwanted stray; Nicholas leaned over the balcony, waiting for an opportune moment to interject.

Judging from his friend’s faces, he might be waiting a while.

“I can’t _believe_ you, Eugene Labao. We’re about to have an _actual flying lesson_ , and you’re intent on spoiling it!” Jesse was wearing a navy cape, and he swirled it over his elbows, making his sulk even more dramatic than usual. 

_He must be really furious, to be pulling out Gene’s full name._

“Well, I wanted to settle this last night, but--”

Jesse gave Gene a dubious look. 

_“_ It’s true, I did! _You’re_ the one who locked me out of the room!”

“Because I didn’t want you to insult me any more!”

“I was coming to _apologize_ , princess.”

Jesse gave a bitter laugh, and Gene pinched his nose, his shoulders slumping. “Guess I’m messing it up again, aren’t I?” he said wryly. “I’m sorry. I should never have said those things to you. You’re a _romantic_.” Here Jesse let out a loud squawk. “You _are,_ Jess, and it’s actually-- it’s quite charming. I-- any dragon would love to be your consort.”

Gene stared at the floor, his jaw clenched, while Jesse’s eyes grew wider and wider, the frown easing off his face, to be replaced by a puzzled expression.

“Do you accept my apology?” Gene asked, eyes still firmly fixed on the floor.

“I will, but first, you have to tell me something,” said Jesse, folding his arms across his chest. “Why’d you get so upset about the golden dragon? He was just protecting me.” 

“ _Protecting_ you,” seethed Gene. “I was the one who--” and then he stopped, his face going pale.

Jesse's blue eyes were very wide now, and his cheeks flushed. “I know,” he said, his light tenor clear and earnest. “You shielded me, I _saw_ you-- and I didn't mean to discount you. I'd _never_ write _you_ off, Gene,” he said, biting his lip, and Nicholas was willing to bet if Jesse had the slightest clue how he was looking at Gene right then he'd die from embarrassment.

_Ignorance really is bliss._

“You must know,” Jesse continued intently, stepping closer so that he was only a hands’ breath away from Gene, “whatever happens with the golden dragon, I’ll _always_ hold you in the highest regard, as one of my most trusted and dear companions.”

As much as his brother could be an asshole, there were times when Jesse Coste was a _true_ princess, in the best sense of the word-- when he was kind, and generous, and sweet, and it became impossible to doubt the purity of his intentions. 

This was one of those times. 

Jesse stared into Gene’s eyes, his color deepening while Gene grew ever more color _less_ , and Gene finally broke his gaze away, regarding the tips of his boots as if they were the most interesting thing in the castle.

“Of course, princess,” he said gruffly, and Jesse smiled so wide, it was like sunshine. 

“Then we are all resolved, and everything is as it was before,” he said, beaming, and gave a startled yelp. 

“The ceiling is leaking again.” Jesse brushed off the shoulders of his riding cloak, casting a glance up at the arched rafters. “I hope it’s not raining. I really don’t want to take flying lessons in the rain.”

“What’s all this about flying lessons?” asked Nicholas, and Jesse squeaked, jumping what seemed like a foot in the air, while Gene’s gaze darted straight to him, swift and sure.

“Nicholas,” he said. “Where’s your scaly shadow?"

“Katayama went to get Sally. And what do you mean, my shadow?” 

“I _meant_ that he sure was sticking to you last night like one.”

“He was _not!”_ Nicholas said reflexively, even though he realized, with a feeling as unpleasant as the trickle of water down his back, that Gene wasn’t exactly wrong. 

Jesse whacked Gene on the shoulder as they climbed up to join Nicholas on the balcony. “Behave!” he said. “Katayama was just observing the niceties, a practice that _some_ of us would do well to imitate.”

“I _am_ behaving,” said Gene. “I just don’t understand how manners equates to keeping Nicholas wrapped up in Katayama’s lap like a present, but what do I know?”

“A whole lot of nothing,” said Jesse, unimpressed.

“I see. Well, the next dinner we have, would you care for me to observe that _nicety_ with you, your highness?” Gene asked, and Jesse’s flush, which had finally begun to fade, spread hot and fast all down his neck and up his ears, where it stood in stark contrast against his bright hair. “Don’t be ridiculous, Gene,” he said, and Gene’s smirk tightened, his nose flaring.

“Right,” he muttered. “Lest I forget, that sort of thing’s above my station.” 

“That isn't what I meant and you know it,” said Jesse. “Katayama’s _courting_ Nicholas--”

“No he’s _not_ ,” hissed Nicholas, who had only just now recovered his equilibrium from Gene’s earlier jibe. "He's protecting me. Like a bodyguard."

"Uh-huh," said Gene, giving Nicholas’ shoulder a healthy thwack. "Is that why--"

"Eugene Labao," said a deep voice, coarse as gravel, and Gene's eyes widened. 

"Katayama," he said, taking a half step back.

The dragon stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, eyes flashing that shimmery green, Sally a few steps behind him. “Is he bothering you, Nicholas?” he asked. “Since I’m your bodyguard, I expect to be kept informed of these things.”

Nicholas gave an uneasy laugh. “Very funny,” he said, unsure if Katayama was joking or not.

“I can take care of it, if he is,” Katayama continued silkily, and Gene took another step back. Jesse frowned, and just as he opened his mouth, Sally spoke.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said. “I expect better from you, Katayama. We don’t have time for this nonsense if we’re to get you all in the air and back safely before the early afternoon.”

The dragon winced, running a hand through his raven hair, his other hand hanging awkwardly by his side. “Apologies,” he said. “I saw him strike Nicholas, and my instincts got the better of me.”

“Accepted,” said Eugene easily. “I know better than to fool around with someone’s princess.” He narrowed his eyes at Nicholas on the last word. “Especially in the middle of courtship.”

 _Let’s see what Kayama says to_ that.

But the dragon just glanced at Eugene with his dark eyes, head held high once more, chest out, and was it Nicholas’ imagination, or did he seem _pleased_?

“Why do we have to be back so early? I thought this was an all day affair,” said Jesse, pouting, and Nicholas turned to him, grateful for the distraction. 

“It usually rains by around 3 or so, remember?” he said.

“So we’re to take turns on Katayama, then?” asked Gene.

The dragon chuffed. “Hardly,” he said.

“Weren’t you listening to me earlier?” said Jesse. “Nicholas will be with Katayama, of course, and father picked one of the suitors for me--”

“ _What_?!” asked Gene, lacing his fingers together and tugging on the back of his skull, his forehead squinched so tight that it looked painful.

“Gene, I told you that already,” Jesse said impatiently. “Anyway, I was going to ask who you thought would be a suitable candidate for you; Marcel is obviously out of the picture, but--”

Gene had somehow become even paler. “I don’t feel so good,” he said.

“I don’t understand,” said Jesse. “You were fine just a moment ago!”

But Gene had already turned, and was heading for the door. “I’m going to go lay down,” he said, and Jesse watched him go, the pout having flattened into a thin, trembling line. 

“You don’t think he’s mad at me, do you?” he asked Nicholas in a small voice, his shoulders hunching in on himself.

Katayama chuffed again. “Speaking as --”

“No,” said Nicholas firmly to his brother’s wide blue eyes, “absolutely not.”

And he comforted Jesse all the way to the inner courtyard, while Sally and Katayama held back, discussing harnesses and potential wind speeds and angles of attack, whatever _that_ meant.

Nicholas had finally managed to talk Jesse down to some measure of calm, reminding him that Gene was not the sort of person to carry a grudge as Jesse chewed his lip and nodded solemnly, and then his brother opened the double doors of the courtyard and it was all undone, all at once.

“It’s _him_ ,” breathed the princess, and for once Nicholas could forgive him the melodrama.

For there in the center of the courtyard, sprawling on his haunches and poised as a bronze sculpture, was the golden dragon. 

_The King was able to find him at last! How on earth did he manage that?_

Nicholas had never actually _seen_ the golden dragon for himself, only heard Jesse’s descriptions, so he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that the dragon was truly more copper than gold, and while Jesse hadn’t been wrong that he was strong, he was rather on the squat side, not nearly as big as Katayama. His snout was broad and compact, his ears stubbly, his frame more muscular and dense than the elegant and slim black dragon. He had feathers, but not half as many as Katayama; the golden dragon’s mane was much smaller, and the ridge on _his_ spine was composed of sharp looking fins, with his ears similarly affected, and his toes where they sank into the grass were webbed. 

_Water dragon, for sure._

_“_ Bakunawa _,”_ said Katayama. “I’ve never seen one of you this far north.”

“I’ve never seen one, period.” Sally squinted at the golden dragon, her eyes sharp and inquisitive. “Yet something about you seems familiar to me.”

 **We don’t often travel far from home,** said the golden dragon in reply, but his amber eyes rested on Jesse alone. His voice was as relaxed and calm as his appearance, but there was an underlying thread of tension that made Nicholas wonder. 

_Perhaps he_ does _like Jesse after all?_

The princess had recovered somewhat from his earlier surprise, pushing his bright hair off his forehead with the heel of his hand and approaching the dragon, a pink flush on his cheeks.

“You’ve returned,” he said, giving a smirk that only quivered at the ends very slightly. He tugged at the ends of his fur lined cape. “Am I in danger?”

 **Of looking like a complete ponce?** the golden dragon asked. **_Absolutely_** **.** He affected an arch tone, but the fins on his spine had extended out halfway, and the sharp points of his ears faced the princess, quivering minutely.

“Yet you are here, even so.” Jesse glanced at the spines, giving an even broader smile. “Some princesses might read into that,” he said innocently.

 **Aren’t you a little** **_young_ ** **for a courtship?** the golden dragon asked, finned ears flicking back on his head, and Jesse’s sunny expression soured. 

“I’m seventeen going on eighteen,” he said, scowling. “I’m plenty old enough.”

“Your actions would appear to indicate otherwise,” Katayama interjected, and Sally gave loud guffaw, which she quickly disguised as a cough.

“How old are _you?”_ asked Jesse, disregarding Katayama’s impertinence with a ease that Nicholas envied.

 **Nineteen,** said the golden dragon, and Jesse clapped his hands together, a smug smile on his lips. **But I’m not a princess,** he added.

“What does _that_ have to do with it?” said Jesse, slitting his eyes.

**You’ve been protected from the world, your highness. You don’t understand how cruel it can be. If you did, you wouldn’t be so eager to dive headlong into a relationship with someone you don’t even know.**

“Why are you here,” said Katayama, raising an eyebrow, “if you do not wish to woo him?”

This time Jesse paid attention to him. “Exactly,” he said, flaring his nose, tossing his bangs off his forehead with a flick of his chin. 

**I’m here to make sure no one takes advantage of him,** said the golden dragon. 

Jesse, who Nicholas imagined very much wanted to be taken advantage of, if it was by the right dragon, scowled further. “I don’t need a chaperone,” he said sullenly, snapping the end of his cape.

Sally put her fingers in her mouth, producing a deafening whistle. “Enough of this,” she said, giving Jesse and the golden dragon a look as pointed as her sword. “Unless you don’t want to fly today at all?”

At this threat, even Jesse fell silent, though his narrowed eyes indicated he had neither forgotten nor forgiven the golden dragon for daring to suggest he was anything other than absolutely ready to be courted.

Sally took leather harnesses out of her bag, eyeballing Nicholas and Jesse while she held her hands up and spitballed their measurements, and then she tossed them one each. “First off,” she began, “we need to get you fitted into your gear.”

Nicholas coughed, his chest abruptly on fire, and suddenly there was a much bigger dragon next to the golden one, sleek and serpentine, shaking out his ruff with rather more enthusiasm than was necessary. Katayama straightened himself to his full height then, mane fluffed, whiskers out and ears pricked, and when he caught Nicholas staring, he settled onto his paws, giving a long, lengthy yawn that fully showcased his needle sharp fangs.

 **Very impressive,** the golden dragon said drily, and Katayama shut his jaws with a snap.

 **It’s gracious of you to acknowledge my grandeur,** said Katayama, his talons sinking into the dirt as his long silver tail thrashed once, coiling around his paws. **Most are too humbled in my presence to say much of anything.**

 **I’m the** **_humble_ ** **type, I guess. I’ve been blessed,** said the golden dragon. **It’s rather rare among us, if you hadn’t noticed.**

“If you two are _quite_ finished,” said Sally.

 **By all means, continue,** said Katayama, shifting on his haunches and then closing his eyes, as if the rest of the proceedings were quite beneath him.

The fitting and the instructions went a lot quicker than Nicholas would have liked. All too soon he was clipped into the harness on Katayama’s mane, putting on a pair of old goggles and waving goodbye to Sally, who headed back into the castle to avoid the downdraft from takeoff.

“Nothing beats experience in the air,” she called out to them as she went. “But that doesn’t mean taking unnecessary risks, _Jesse._ ”

Jesse nodded from where he clung to the golden dragon like a burr, his tan skin tinted an unsettling green.

 **Where shall we go?** asked the golden dragon. 

“Stardew Valley,” said Jesse, pulling at the straps that tied him to his dragon’s shoulders, even though they were already as tight as they could go.

 **Why?** asked the golden dragon. 

“My friend is sick, and I want to make him Moonlight tea.” Jesse adjusted his goggles, his jaw set and determined, but even from where he sat upon Katayama’s back, Nicholas could tell he was trembling. “I need mountain bluebells, the rare kind, not the common ones you see by the road, but the kind with tiny lavender petals. I’ve heard that you can only find them in the wild-- they can’t be grown, only picked.”

 **The valley is not so far from here,** the golden dragon said kindly. **I’ll go very slow, and we won’t have to ascend much, as Stardew is low lying.**

“I’m ready,” said Jesse, burying himself in the dragon’s mane. “We can go as fast and as high as you want.” The golden dragon gave a low, discontented hum, but did not say anything else.

 **We are venturing to a higher elevation,** said Katayama. **We shall meet up with you back at the castle when the sun is at zenith.**

“Aren’t you going to ask me where _I_ want to go?” Nicholas tugged on one of Katayama’s ridge spines.

**No. And stop that, it feels like I’m carrying a tiny flea.**

Nicholas tugged on the spine again, just because, and Katayama craned his neck, turning his head to the side and wrinkling his lips back from those daggers he called teeth, but before he could say anything more, the golden dragon took off.

He heaved himself into the air, strong and solid as a panther pouncing, and then wove leisurely around the maple trees in the courtyard, circling up in a languid spiral, like a hawk up a thermal. Though his pace was slow and unhurried, Jesse remained clamped down on him throughout, his face hidden in the dragon’s mane, the glint of his goggles nowhere to be seen.

 **It won’t be long, princess. I promise,** the golden dragon said to Jesse, and then they were over the castle roof, and out of sight.

 **You can stop gawking now, little flea,** Katayama said. **I’m a much more agile and accomplished flier, so there is no point anticipating our flight based on** **_that._ **

“I’m not a flea,” said Nicholas. “And I was _admiring_ his flying, not studying it.”

 **_Admiring_** _ **?**_ The black dragon pawed the earth, gouging out a great hunk of dirt, and then he gave a snarl that rang through the courtyard like a cannon shot. **_I’ll_ ** **give you something to admire,** he said, and without any further warning he sprang into the air, launching himself into the sky like an arrow fletched to the target, fervent and furious and unstoppable.

In less time than it took Nicholas to gasp a breath they were past the roof, past the walls, and in seconds more they were among clouds, and Nicholas felt like he was about to fall off the face of the earth and they were going so fast that he hadn’t even had time to grab on properly, his arms flailing around while his legs clamped on Katayama’s sides like a vise, and it was abundantly clear that his dragon was a total fucking lunatic.

“This is _amazing!”_ Nicolas screamed into Katayma’s ear, and the dragon snarled again, his ears pinned to his head by the galeforce wind, and he dropped his shoulder and they were spinning, rolling in the air, the line between the sky and the earth blurring until Nicholas couldn’t tell the one from the other, and all he could do was hang on (barely) and laugh for the sheer thrill of it.

 **I knew you would love flying,** Katayama said after he had leveled off, and Nicholas was too dizzy from the rolling to reply. He tugged on the dragon’s spine instead, but the dragon gave a huff that sounded more amused than annoyed. **Soon we’ll be back down on earth, little flea, and you’ll have to take care that I don’t claw you from my coat then, won’t you?**

Nicholas had heard one of Jesse’s tutors say time was relative, and after being astride Katayama for any length of time it was easy to agree. It was hard to judge how long they’d been flying when it felt like Nicholas was riding a bolt of lightning.

At some point the dragon slowed a fraction, circling around. **Time to land,** he said, and that was all the warning Nicholas got before Katayama plummeted towards the ground with a fearless mastery that took Nicholas’ breath away. Nicholas closed his eyes and held on for dear life, his heart racing as fast as the wind through his hair, and then Katayama finished off the stoop, and coasting to a landing as precise and controlled as his ascent had been wild and daring.

**Welcome to Paintbrush Canyon, Nicholas.**

Nicholas slid his goggles up his face, sank back onto the dragon’s shoulders, and took it all in.

The jagged sides of two sharp, craggy peaks closed in around a lush gorge, where a river rushed over boulders in a crystalline spray of foam, the sound making a soothing backdrop for the field of wildflowers and blackberries that spread before them. 

Nicholas couldn’t believe how many flowers he saw-- bright hues of deep indigo, brilliant fuchsia, and fiery orange-- but the most numerous by far were delicate bell like blossoms of a pristine white. The sun dappled meadow were so covered with these flowers that at first Nicholas thought it was dusted in snow. 

“Where are we?” he asked the dragon.

**The Kyber pass.**

“But that’s well over a week away from the castle!”

 **On foot,** Katayama said smugly.

“I thought the mountains were crawling with bears,” said Nicholas.

Seiji turned and roared, so loud that it echoed through the ravine, and before too long a grizzly came tearing out of the berry bushes, running incredibly fast for something so large. **Not anymore,** said the dragon, his ridge extended, whiskers splayed, and he pawed the ground once more, sending up a shower of dirt. **This is** **_my_ ** **territory now.**

“I guess so,” said Nicholas, trying his best to sound unfazed, but he must have failed, for Katayama made a pleased grumbling, his mane fluffing enough that it tickled Nicholas’ nose, before lowering himself to the earth. **Dismount, princess. What I want to show you is better experienced on the ground.**

Nicholas undid his harness, stepping down onto the grass and taking a deep breath of the crisp air, laced with the clean smell of the stream and a faint, minty odor.

 **This way,** said the dragon, padding over to an area of the meadow overlooking the stream, which was positively carpeted with the little white blossoms. **I have taken you here because, after much deliberation last night, I realized what your smell reminded me of.**

Nicholas worked his left wrist with his other hand, suddenly very glad that Katayama was not looking his way. “What?” he asked, his voice far too faint.

 **Your scent is cool and fresh, like spring in the mountains,** Katayama said, plunging his muzzle into the tiny white flowers and sniffing, long and deep. **Snowdrops.**

“I bet you tell that to all the princesses,” said Nicholas, ducking his head and giving a nervous laugh.

 **I have never brought anyone here but you,** said Katayama solemnly.

Nicholas stared at his wrist, his fingers still ringed around it in a death grip, until he felt something warm and slender curl around his leg, pulling him towards the dragon, and when he looked down the silver tip of Katayama’s tail had wound its way around his ankle.

 **Come, Nicholas,** he said. And Nicholas did as he bid, quiet and red faced, kneeling down next to the dragon and breathing in the scent of the snowdrops. 

_He’s right. They_ do _smell like spring._ There was another smell, too, that tinge of mint he had detected before, and Nicholas shifted through the blossoms until he found the source, holding up the teeny purple flowers to his nose, the dragon’s silver tail still tight on his skin.

 **What is** **_that_** **?** The dragon gave a deep sniff, sinking into the grass into a fit of hacking coughs. **I have never seen that flower before. It is quite horrible.**

“Hmm...” said Nicholas. “Maybe it’s the flower Jesse was looking for?” He pocketed it, and began combing through the snowdrops, plucking each purple one as he saw it and adding to the heap. He had amassed quite a large number, absorbed in the task and grateful for the distraction from the way his breath had caught and his stomach clenched when Katayama was describing his scent, when the coughing stopped, and the tail around his ankle loosened. Nicholas glanced up, dropping the flowers he had collected on the ground.

Because something was happening with the dragon.

Something very _odd._

His back arched high, his front paws down low, his tail waving hypnotically just above the long grass, the dragon was staring at Nicholas and making a chirping noise in the back of his throat, and---

\---and Nicholas was flat on his back, under sleek feathers and smooth scales and black black eyes, nutmeg deep in his lungs, and Katayama’s pupils were so large, the iridescent green was only a rim around a sea of black. The dragon was smooth in motion, quick and fluid and strong, yet he had taken great care, even in play, to sheath his talons and shift the majority of his weight to his back legs, so as not to hurt Nicholas, and Nicholas’ breathe hitched again, his arms coming up to circle around Katayama’s silken mane. 

The dragon’s ears pricked forward. **Princess,** he said, chirruping loudly, and he nudged him with his muzzle, springing up quick as lightning, only to circle back around again, and as soon as his back arched Nicholas grabbed a handful of the purple flowers, holding them in front of him like a shield.

“NO,” he said firmly. “No more pouncing.”

 **You didn’t like it?** the dragon asked, his whiskers drooping, and Nicholas put the flowers back in his pocket, glancing down so he didn’t have to meet the dragon’s eyes.

_Being cradled underneath you? I liked it too much._

“I need to get more flowers for Jesse,” he said, and the dragon’s ears pricked forward, his whiskers back up again. 

**Your concern for your friend is admirable. I will render assistance.**

The dragon began pawing through the snowdrops in earnest, petals falling everywhere like rain, and Nicholas felt his eyes get wider and wider. **He should just grant Gene permission to court him,** the dragon said conversationally. **It would put them both out of their misery. I believe I shall suggest that, when we return to the--**

_Oh fuck no._

“Speaking of Jesse, I hope he’s doing okay,” interrupted Nicholas, desperately casting around for a new topic. “He seemed a little scared-- although the golden dragon did take very good care of him.”

 **The golden dragon,** Katayama sneered. **What does he have? He hasn't even got a** **_name._ **

“I'm sure he's got a _name_ ,” said Nicholas, fighting off a smile. “He just isn’t sharing it.”

 **No matter,** said the dragon. **I am better than he by every conceivable metric. You know this to be true.** He paused from wallowing around in the snowdrops, staring at Nicholas with those dark eyes from upside down, and gave a great huff, sending petals flying everywhere.

“Oh, are you?” asked Nicholas, amused.

**Yes. So you should stop staring at him so much.**

“I'm not--”

**You don't need to look at him at all, in fact.**

“Is that so?”

 **Yes. You should direct your attention solely to me.** Katayama rolled around again, showing his belly with a luxurious stretch. **I am the most elegant, powerful, and clever dragon in this or any kingdom.** He pawed through the flowers, tossing them into the air. **You are impressed. Do not bother to deny it.**

“I wasn’t going to,” said Nicholas, who was occupied with biting the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing.

The dragon had gotten the flowers all over his mane, and he shook it, giving a loud, very emphatic roar. **Am I not superb?**

At that Nicholas could no longer contain himself and barked out a laugh, and even though he immediately clapped his hand over his mouth the dragon’s ears flattened, his whiskers flicked back in outrage. “The flowers are everywhere,” Nicholas said apologetically, reaching out to touch one, but his fingers missed, and he grazed the edge of one of Katayama’s ears instead.

Nicholas yanked his hand back as if he had scalded it, remembering how Katayama had reacted the last time he touched him, and Katayama froze then, his ears straight up, and reared back on his hind legs--

_Now I’ve gone and done it!_

\--and the dragon blew out a great gust of air from his snout, and lowered himself down, until he was kneeling at Nicholas’ feet.

 **Nicholas Cox** , he said, his great head bowed, and Nicholas’ eyes grew huge as he realized the dragon was shaking, ever so slightly. **You would affix your snowdrops to my mane?**

Nicholas was afraid to move, and then Katayama nudged his hand, working his head underneath it. **Princess. I--I would greatly enjoy it,** he said, voice strung taut as a bow. **If you were willing.**

“I would be helping you,” said Nicholas. “Like I did in the den.”

 **Yes,** the dragon said immediately. **You preening me,** **exactly as before.**

_You were quick to correct me when I called it that last night..._

And Nicholas thought of what Sally had said, about how maybe Katayama didn’t have anyone he could trust to be vulnerable with like that, and maybe he hadn’t wanted Nicholas to before, maybe it had taken him by surprise, and then he had gotten scared, but-- but he had clearly changed his mind, and it was true that he could _trust_ Nicholas, that Nicholas would never hurt him, and Nicholas sank his fingers into the dragon’s mane, and Katayama gave a great sigh, his whole long length relaxing into the flowers, his head resting in Nicholas’ lap.

Messy though they might be, the feathers of his mane were soft, soft and cool like the petals of a flower. Nicholas started with the stretch of mane by the dragon’s long, silky ears ears, carefully taking the snowdrops and weaving them into the feathers there, and with every touch of his hand the dragon leaned deeper into him, giving a barely perceptible purr. By the time he was halfway down the mane, the purr had begun in earnest, vibrating under his palms, rough and sweet. 

**Such gentle hands,** sighed the dragon, and suddenly the air was full of fluff, black plumes adrift on the wind.

“Katayama, the feathers,” said Nicholas, in between a pair of rapid fire sneezes. “They’re _yours_.” 

**Yes,** said the dragon. **When wind dragons are very… content… we manifest them.** The shower of feathers floated by, settling on the flowers. **I cannot control it. It is a high compliment to you,** he finished, closing his eyes and nudging his head under Nicholas’ hand again.

Nicholas swallowed, hard, sniffling, and bent his head to work, and it wasn’t long before he was finished. “Done,” he told the dragon, and when he looked down, he noticed the long claw marks in the dirt; though Katayama had been exquisitely still when Nicholas had touched him, his claws had sunk into the earth, leaving deep furrows behind, and Nicholas felt a fluttering deep in the pit of his stomach at the sight.

 **What do you think?** the dragon asked, sunlight glinting off his black scales like sparks from coal, the tiny, bell-like flowers neatly woven into his feathers softening his usual grand appearance: but nothing could ever make him look less than blindingly handsome, even so. 

“You look…” said Nicholas, and bit his lip, terribly afraid that the burning sensation on the bridge of his nose was a blush, and not sunburn. “Very, um, very nice.”

 **It pleases you.** The dragon gave a tremendous roar then, the loudest so far, and, breaking out of his stillness, ran rampant around the field, raking his talons across the snowdrops and assembling them into a great heap. He stalked over to Nicholas, nudging him towards it, and then finally getting impatient and pouncing on him, tumbling them both into the pile and sending petals flying everywhere. 

**Humans enjoy receiving large numbers of flowers,** he said. **I have been told this is known as a** **_bouquet_** **. Look at the flowers I have gathered for you. You must lie on them and roll with me.**

_Oh my god._

“It’s just like the bed…” Nicholas collapsed onto the flowers, giggling hysterically, while the dragon stamped a foot, his ears flicked to the side.

 **This must surely be the grandest** **_bouquet_ ** **you have ever seen. Why are you laughing?** Katayama cried, deeply offended. **And what do you mean, like the** **_bed_** **?**

Nicholas was laughing too hard to answer, and the dragon snorted, mantling up over him, until he was directly on top of Nicholas.

 **Nicholas Cox,** **you will explain what is wrong with the bed,** ** _at once_** **,** the dragon said with a savage dignity, his mane fully fluffed out, the flowers only adding to the display. It was too much, too much, and Nicholas tilted his head back and laughed until he was sick, and then lay there under the dragon, smiling, his head tilted back into the flowers, and then he felt the touch of something warm on the skin of his neck, rubbing against his throat tenderly, first on one side, and then on the other, giving off a gentle grumble, and when he felt the tickle of a cool nose behind his ear he realized it was the dragon, pressing his muzzle against him.

Nicholas’ arms had curled around the dragon’s mane quite of their own accord, and he and Katayama rested there in the flowers, the dragon breathing in a quiet rumble into his neck, until the valley passed into shadow.

When Nicholas wriggled under the dragon, trying to cover himself with more feathers to combat the chill in the air, the dragon’s head rose, until they were eye to eye.

 **Where is** **_your_ ** **flower crown, Nicholas?** he asked, ears forward, whiskers jutting out to brush Nicholas across the face. 

“I don’t think they’d suit me as much as they do you, Katayama,” said Nicholas, and the dragon leaned his head to the side, his dark eyes staring into Nicholas’.

 **I am** **_Seiji_** **,** he said. **And you are** **_wrong_** **, princess.**

“Seiji,” Nicholas repeated softly, running his fingertips over the edge of one silky ear. 

**I will make you one,** the dragon continued. **You shall see.** He ducked his muzzle under Nicholas’ chin again, rubbing rough whiskers on his throat. When he started purring the vibration made it tickle, and Nicholas had his fingers in the dragon’s mane before he realized what he was doing.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, abashed, tucking his hands back down at his sides.

 **Princess,** said Seiji, pushing his muzzle against him harder. **_You_ ** **may preen me as often as you desire.**

His feathers were smooth and cool, the touch like velvet, and Nicholas squirmed, pressing his hands under his back so he wouldn’t be tempted. The dragon had been spread all over him the entire afternoon, his scent everywhere, and now Nicholas was saturated with it, and he realized with a start that there were feathers all over him too: in his hair, on his clothes, covering him as thoroughly as the meadow was covered with snowdrops. A prickling swept up his spine at the realization, crept up his neck, worked its way to his cheeks. “We should probably head back,” he said, squinting at the sun. “We’re already late, and they’ll be worried.” 

Seiji snorted. **You are with me,** he said. **They should know better than to worry.**

But he got up all the same, kneeling down so Nicholas could mount him, and as soon as he had strapped in Seiji catapulted himself into the air, and the wild fury that was riding a dragon in full glory, at the height of his power, could almost distract Nicholas from the feel of the dragon’s feathers, could almost make him believe that the tingling in his fingertips was from adrenaline, and not something else entirely.

Jesse was waiting in the courtyard when they returned, wearing a troubled frown on his face, the golden dragon nowhere in evidence.

 _Probably not a good idea to bring_ that _up._

“You’re late,” Jesse announced, arms crossed, fingers tapping on his elbow.

 **Where is--**

“He had to leave.” Jesse’s mouth tightened. “He was going to wait for you, but I told him not to bother.”

“I’m sorry,” said Nicholas.

“It’s fine. We got my flowers for the tea, and he did-- he tried to be nice about it.” Jesse gripped his elbows, the cape hanging limp from his shoulders. “I guess Gene was right after all. I didn’t really know the golden dragon the way I thought, did I?” He bent to pick up a flower that had fallen from the dragon's coat.

And Seiji gave a rattling growl. 

**Those are** **_Nicholas’_ ** **flowers,** snarled the dragon, mantling, thought it was hard to take him seriously with the snowdrops in his mane. 

Jesse stared, backing away slowly. “Of course,” he said, hands up by his shoulders.

Seiji’s ridge and mane smoothed down a fraction. **Thank you,** he said, and then tilted his head at Nicholas. **_Your_ ** **flowers are in Nicholas’ pocket.**

“My flowers?” asked Jesse, puzzled, and when Nicholas showed him the purple blossoms he’d collected, he laughed and laughed-- which made well worth the trouble of collecting them, in Nicholas’ opinion.

“These look _nothing_ like bluebells,” he said. “Oh, Nicholas. You’ve brought me dragon flower. I’d only give these to Gene if…” Jesse shut his mouth, his cheeks going pink. 

“If _what?”_ asked Nicholas.

“Never mind,” said Jesse. “I need to brew the tea. I only wanted to make sure you got back first. Sally said lunch is still warm in the kitchen if you want some. I’ll be down in a little bit, after I check on Gene.”

“We should eat,” Nicholas told Seiji after Jesse had gone, and the dragon chirruped, arching his back and staring at Nicholas with a look that, if he didn’t know better, might be described as pleading. 

_Oh god, he wants to play again._

“If we wait too long, the food will get cold.” Nicholas crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows. “I think it might be easier if you were in your human form, don’t you?’

Seiji huffed, as if Nicholas was the one being absurd. **Of course. I was merely awaiting your pleasure, princess.**

“Uh- _huh_ ,” Nicholas said, drawing the word out. "Right."

Lunch was an interesting affair.

Jesse took forever to come down, and Sally had already eaten, so it was just Nicholas and the dragon, a crown of flowers atop his tousled hair, at the table, and Nicholas felt the weight of that dark stare on him for the whole meal. 

In fact, it seemed as though the dragon’s eyes hadn’t left him since they had returned from the meadow. They followed him when he joked around with Sally at the door, when he got up to get a drink, when he left the hall to get some air.

When he took to the ramparts a second time, he wasn’t surprised to see Seiji coming in scarcely a minute behind him.

If Nicholas knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t bring it up.

“What did it feel like, when I braided the flowers into your mane?” he asked. The dragon turned to face him, his gaze travelling up over what felt like every inch of Nicholas’ body, and even though Seiji had just finished consuming roughly the equivalent of four normal human meals on his own, his expression was lean and hungry in a way that made Nicholas take a shaky breath and grab the railing to steady himself. 

"Your hands were very gentle, princess," Seiji said, midnight eyes glinting green. He held his hand out, palm up, fingers together, and Nicolas’ nose twitched as the scent of nutmeg, warm and moist, blew across the room, and suddenly instead of empty air Seiji’s fingers closed around a sleek black feather. The dragon lifted it to graze Nicholas’ neck, dancing the tip of it along his throat, and Nicholas' hand flew up of his own volition, pressing Seiji's fingers into the skin there, so that Seiji held Nicholas' heartbeat fluttering in the palm of his hand. “It felt like this," whispered the dragon, his gaze trapped by the fragile expanse of skin under his grasp, and he leaned closer, his breath brushing Nicholas' jaw, as he scented the underside of his throat. “Sweet, and tender, and--”

Somewhere behind him, someone was clearing their throat, very theatrically.

Nicholas stepped back, untangling himself from long, slim limbs, to find Gene giving him a look that spoke volumes.

“Labao,” growled Seiji. “I thought you were ill.”

"I'm better," said Gene, holding up a steaming mug and giving a little salute with it. "How were the lessons?"

“He flew upon _my_ back. How do you think it went?” asked the dragon arrogantly.

Gene’s lips quirked. “Well,” he began, but then he tilted his head, frowning, and sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”

“Kinda minty?” asked Nicholas, and when Gene nodded, he dug into his pocket for the squished remnants of dragon flower that Jesse had found so very amusing.

But Gene didn’t laugh. 

He flinched, slopping the tea onto his hand, waving the other one at Nicholas urgently. “Put them back,” he croaked.

Nicholas did as he had bid, cramming them back into his pocket. “ _Why?”_

Gene stared at Seiji. “How long have you been carrying these? Has Katayama been around them?”

“Seiji? Yeah, all morning, so?”

“That flower of yours,” Gene said hoarsely. “It’s a --- well. It has a mild effect on humans, but it _really_ works on dragons. It… _affects_ them.” 

“What, so he’s drunk?”

Gene gave a strangled laugh. “Something like that,” he said.

Seiji scowled. “I am far from inebriated, thank you very much,” he snapped. “I’m thinking more clearly than I have in quite some time.”

Gene leaned forward and wrinkled his nose, contemplating the dragon for a moment. “You know, in a manner of speaking, I suspect you’re probably right.”

“I _know_ I’m right,” the dragon said, eyes flashing green. “If you’ve finished rudely interrupting, or was there some other asinine thing you needed to point out...?”

Gene raised both eyebrows. “No, think I’m good,” he said.

“Quite,” said Seiji, and turned back to face Nicholas. “Where were we?”

_You were scenting me._

Nicholas swallowed. “Maybe now isn’t the best time to--”

“Hold out your hand, Nicholas,” he said, and when Nicholas did, he placed the feather on his palm, long and sleek and _perfect_ , gleaming black like pure ebony, with the slightest emerald highlights. The feather was huge, far larger than the one he’d put in his pocket, and it rested on his wrist, light as snow. 

Nicholas swallowed, his throat too tight for him all of a sudden.

“ _Oh_ ,” he said, as the dragon closed his fingers around it, pressing it into his hand. “But I lost the bet.”

“You didn’t need to win a bet to get my feather, Nicholas,” said Seiji. “All you needed to do was _ask_.”

Gene cleared his throat again.

The dragon put his mouth very gently to Nicholas’ wrist, kissing the feather there, and then he bowed to Gene. 

“Good day,” he said, and then, to Nicholas: “I’ll await you inside, princess. I believe we should travel back to the lair soon, where there will be no further,” here he favored Gene with a dark look, “ _interruptions_.”

Nicholas gave him a nod, which was about all he was capable of doing for the moment. 

_That kiss… !_

“Nicholas,” said Gene. “He _presented_ you with his _feather_. In front of an audience, no less.”

“I mean, I did ask for it,” said Nicholas sheepishly.

“What?!” 

“Look, it was a bet--” 

“Oh my _god.”_

“It doesn't mean anything!” he exclaimed, but Gene wasn’t listening. 

“I don't care what you say about this being an act.” Gene whistled, low and impressed. “Maybe it was in the beginning, but now…”

“It's been a _day_ , Gene. Don't you remember what he said when we met?”

“Dragons tend to hate surprises, especially prissy dragons with sticks up their asses. Katayama may be an asshole, but he's no fool, and once he realized just what he was turning up his muzzle at--”

“I'm no one's idea of a princess.”

“I beg to differ,” said Gene. “You and your brother are just about the most ideal princesses a dragon could ask for.”

“But my manners… and my background…I’m a _bastard_ , Gene!” Nicholas pitched the flowers off the balcony, where they floated the long way down to the moat.

“None of that shit matters. It's your character that w-- that a dragon cares about. And you've got it in spades.”

“Like you said, Gene, it's the--”

“That flower doesn't make something from nothing. It just brings out what's already there, and from what I can see Katayama is about five seconds away from dropping to his knees and asking for your hand for real, so you better start thinking about your reply if he does.”

And _that_ became all Nicholas thought about, the rest of the afternoon.

Once they had manifested back in the lair, the dragon was unusually silent. He set them down in the meadow, and they stayed there past sunset, Nicholas occupied with trying to catch a fish in the stream, and Seiji raking his talons through his mane, shaking off the flowers.

It was not very effective, and Nicholas got up, walking towards him. 

“I can take--”

 **No!** Seiji said immediately. **No, I do not require assistance, Nicholas. You should go back to the stream. I am sure you will capture a fish soon.**

And Nicholas felt his chest ache, though he did not know why, as the dragon was being nice, nicer than usual even, but he did as Katayama bid and went back to the stream, and as he watched the shredded flowers float by, he tried not to worry.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst happened when they had gone into the den.

 **I must make amends for my behavior today,** the dragon said, his ears flat to his head. Unlike the forced apology the King had made him give, it seemed that he truly meant this one, which was strange, considering he had done nothing wrong.

“That’s not necessary,” said Nicholas, remembering the way the dragon had pranced among the snowdrops, frolicking in them like a kitten, and then pushed his head under Nicholas’ hand quivering with nerves, as though he desperately wished to belong there but was terrified to show it--

 **I was vulgar,** Seiji said. **The plant led me to believe-- but it does not matter. What matters is that I was forward, and brash, and rude, and what’s worse, I was far too familiar with you, in a way that is inexcusable. We are not mates.**

Nicholas’ eyes were burning, his chest aching, which was odd, because Seiji hadn’t done any magic lately. _We are not mates._ “You have nothing to apologize for, Seiji,” he said, but his voice was all weird, shivery and hurt, and the dragon made a deep chuffing noise, laying his head down in between his taloned paws.

 **I am deeply sorry, Nicholas,** he said. **If you wish to break our arrangement, I understand.**

“I don’t,” said Nicholas, rubbing fiercely at his eyes. “I just-- I need to be alone for a bit.” 

**Of course,** the dragon said, curled up and miserable at his feet. **Of course.**

Something tickled Nicholas’ ear and he reached up, pulling out a tiny white petal.

_I still have the snowdrops in my hair._

Nicholas got up then, making his way to the little room with the absurdly large bed, but whereas before the thought of it had made him laugh, now it just reminded him of the bouquet of flowers, and Seiji lying with him there, in the perfect meadow, on the perfect day, treating him like he really _was_ a princess, and Nicholas clutched one of the enormous pillows to his chest and cried himself to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

When Nicholas woke up in the den this time, it was a much more subdued affair than the day before. There was no yelling, no stomping, only the rippling of the hot springs and the flickering of the fire, and he lay on his back a long while, gazing up at the twinkling ceiling, his head throbbing, heavy with guilt. 

Nicholas dragged his fingers through the tattered flowers scattered across his pillow and sighed.

He hadn’t gotten much sleep at all, and what little he had gotten had been filled with bad dreams, memories of the dragon lying in a wretched heap at his feet. Seiji had apologized for his behavior, even though as far as Nicholas was concerned, there was no need, but now after the initial whiplash of yesterday was over, Nicholas felt sick to his stomach. 

_Didn’t Eugene say that the flower made dragons drunk?_

Yesterday had been incandescent, inexplicable; the sort of day Nicholas could never, ever forget, magical and lovely and _impossible_. Even with how it had ended, he knew he would cherish it forever, but he could not ignore the thought that perhaps Seiji had quite a different experience, that the dragon had done things he might wish to take back, and Nicholas stuck a hand under his pillow, feeling around, until silk brushed his fingertips. He had hidden the feather he’d taken that first morning under his pillow, and he slowly pulled it out, digging in his tunic for the other, longer one that Seiji had gifted him. It was just as soft and gorgeous as he remembered, and when he thought about how the dragon had kissed it into his wrist, he closed his eyes, pressing his fingers into his eyelids, hard, but it didn’t help. 

Nothing much did.

When Nicholas at last mustered the courage to enter the main chamber, the dragon was waiting for him, sitting on his haunches before the fire, a sword scabbard resting at his feet.

 **Princess,** he said, formal and stiff, legs pressed tight to his torso, so he appeared much smaller than usual. **I hope you slept well.**

“Seiji,” said Nicholas, fingertips dancing over the feathers in his pocket. The dragon was being so polite, so proper; it was miles away from the rude, dismissive behavior of yesterday, distant and quiet and it made something twinge deep in Nicholas’ chest. “I-- I did, but--”

The dragon stirred, his ears instantly still, whiskers back and down. **But?**

“But I believe I have something of yours,” Nicholas blurted out, the words burning on his tongue, and he thrust the feathers towards the dragon.

Seiji’s fluffy mane flattened to his neck, and his ears followed suit, making him seem more slender than ever. Nicholas gave a quick succession of sneezes, and with a brief pop the dragon stood before him, raven hair messy as always, staring at the ground with a lost expression in those dark eyes.

“You wish to return my feather,” he said quietly, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “I understand.”

“Well, yes,” said Nicholas. _He looks worse than he did last night._ “I thought you’d like it back.”

The dragon stared at him, head tilted, not understanding. “Like it back?” he said, repeating each word precisely, as if to make absolutely sure of the words.

“That’s not what you want?”

The flush crept up his cheeks. “ _No_ ,” said Seiji, voice so faint Nicholas could barely make it out over the spring’s trickling. “It was a gift.”

“A gift you gave when you weren’t in your right mind,” said Nicholas over the sudden tightness in the back of his throat. “A gift that wasn’t mine to take--”

“I _was_ in my right mind,” Seiji insisted stubbornly. 

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “You _pounced_ on me,” he said. 

Seiji coughed, turning a shade pinker. “The flower affected me, it’s true,” he admitted. “But I was in full control of my facilities. It merely made me consider things in a new light.”

“No shit,” said Nicholas. “One minute you’re balking over my use of the word ‘preen’ and then next time I look you’re kneeling at my feet? I should have known something was wrong, I should have turned you down, but instead I was stupid and I- if I hurt you, I’m sorry.”

Seiji gave a strangled chuffing noise, bending over, and Nicholas watched in alarm until he caught his breath. 

When the dragon turned his face up again, the edge of his mouth had quirked up. “You must excuse me. The tension of the moment struck me, all of a sudden.”

“Were you… were you _laughing_ at me?”

“You have to admit, the idea is amusing. As though _you_ could do me harm, Nicholas Cox,” he said. “It is as if a snowdrop were afraid I might be wounded by a petal.”

“I _know_ I couldn't really hurt you, stupid.” Nicholas glared at him. “That isn’t… I just meant that--”

“I know what you meant, princess,” murmured Seiji, mouth ticking up further. “You meant my feelings. And your concern, though unwarranted, is a testament to your character.”

“I’m glad my worries can be of such entertainment for you,” said Nicholas, as he gritted his teeth, shoving the feathers back into his pocket before he squished them. 

“I assure you,” said Seiji in a low, serious tone, fixing him with a steady look from those dark eyes, “the flower did not force anything upon me. What I desired then and what I desire now, remain unchanged. The plant merely allowed me to see it with clarity, and gave me leave to freely express it.”

Nicholas did not quite know what to say to that, or indeed what Seiji meant, exactly, by _his desires_ , so he supposed it was lucky that the dragon appeared to have something pressing on his mind to pivot to.

“Would you give me leave to return to my true form?” Seiji asked, in that same quiet voice, and when Nicholas nodded, his ears popped and the dark dragon was before him again, mane fluffed once more, looking reassuringly less like a drowned rat.

Seiji pushed the sword towards Nicholas with one taloned paw. **We were ill-met from the start** , he said. **I know we don't agree on much, but I am confident we can both agree on that.**

Nicholas nodded, bending over to examine the sword. “Finally ready for our duel, then?” he asked, running a finger along the edge.

There was another chuffing noise, but when Nicholas looked up, eyes narrowed, the dragon cleared his throat, giving a loud cough. **Not exactly,** he said. **It was my hope this morning that I could offer you a gift, in atonement for my hasty and uncalled for treatment of you.**

“But you already apologized,” said Nicholas.

**It was not an apology worthy of a princess, though I see you are too good-natured to say so. Never fret for that on my account: it is one of the things I most admire about you, your fearless regard for the truth.**

“Thank you,” mumbled Nicholas, scuffing his heel against a pebble as the back of his neck heated. “But it’s really not a big--”

The dragon nudged the sword further towards Nicholas. **_This_ ** **is the apology you deserve.**

“What?!” 

**She is yours.**

“But I can’t-- she’s your favorite--”

 **Again, you show your sweetness, but again, you are mistaken.** The dragon’s ears were canted forward, his whiskers in parallel. **They are a pair; she is my sword’s** **_mate_** **.**

Now it felt as though his neck were ablaze. “I don’t know what to say.”

**You don’t need to say anything. Just show me. I want to see you fight. In time, if you continue your practice, I may agree to a match.**

“You’ll fight me? Truly?”

 **I said** **_may_** **,** cautioned Seiji, but Nicholas already had his hands on the sword, and he wasn’t really listening. She was gorgeous, as slight, deadly, and elegant as her owner, and even though he could not conceive of taking such a fine blade for himself, no matter what the dragon said, no power on earth could prevent Nicholas from whipping her through the forms, advancing and retreating and striking in a blur of happiness, until his legs burned and his wrist ached and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face for anything.

And he spent the rest of the morning sweating through drills, with Seiji giving him the occasional harsh, but helpful advice, until it was time for them to go to the castle.

He was drenched, no doubt reeking as well, and he could only guess as to the state of his hair, so he was beside himself when the dragon shifted forms as easily as Nicholas shifted his parries, opening his arms expectantly.

“You don’t want me to wash off?”

“We’re late,” the dragon said, his eyes following Nicholas as he peeled the tunic off, leaving him in his undershirt. “You have clothes at the castle, do you not?” 

“I do, but--”

Seiji stared at him. “Then come on,” he ordered, and Nicholas shook his head, but obeyed, settling into an embrace that was somehow familiar, even though it had only been a scant few days since they’d met, and he almost managed not to blush when Seiji’s head dipped to scent him.

_Almost._

A swirl of feathers later and they were in the library again, the ceiling towering above the soaring shelves of books, but this time Seiji had placed them in a secluded section on the second floor, off the main chamber and its balconies, full of squishy armchairs and wide, paned glass windows, lush ferns in marble pots and golden morning light. 

Sequestered in a window seat, Gene waited next to a fern that had seen happier days, sipping a mug in his pyjamas, his hair truly a sight to behold.

“Nicholas,” he said, and gave the dragon a nod. “Katayama. Either of you up for some hot, medicinal beverage? I’m under strict orders to drink the entire pot and I don’t know if I can swing it on my own.”

Nicholas grinned. “I thought you were improving?” he said.

“That’s not good enough for your brother,” said Gene, grimacing and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and it was only when Seiji stood very still, looking rapidly between Nicholas and Eugene, that Gene realized what he had done.

“Oh _shit_ ,” he said, slamming the mug on the table and sloshing tea everywhere. 

“King Robert never married my mother,” Nicholas told Seiji. “If the court were to find out… you can’t say anything. _Please._ ” He was still in the dragon’s arms, those dark eyes only a breath away from his own, and he held that inscrutable gaze, even as the tingling raced up his arms, even as the knot grew in his throat, thick enough to choke him. “You have to promise me.”

_Even if I am just a bastard._

“I give you my word,” Seiji said, solid and unmoving where he curled around him, and Nicholas could suddenly swallow again. “No one shall ever hear of this from me,” he continued, and paused, scrutinizing Nicholas with an unreadable expression. It was clear that he had questions, and Nicholas braced himself for the onslaught, but then the dragon shook his head, frowning, and, giving him a squeeze, turned to the hall. “I told Sally I would find her once we arrived,” he said. “I’ll return shortly.”

“Wait, Seiji--” Nicholas sighed as the door closed, fixing himself a cup of tea from the set on the window sill. “Why does he always do that?” He sank into the armchair across from Gene.

Gene’s eyebrows rose as he dumped most of the kettle over the half dead fern. “Do what?” he asked. “Keep your secrets?”

_He never reacts the way I’d expect._

Seiji should have been insulted, but instead the dragon had been understanding, almost _gentle._ It was unsettling, because if he wasn’t careful that unlooked-for kindness could give Nicholas hope, and he knew well the dangers of that. 

He breathed in the steam from his tea. “Sometimes I wonder if Seiji--”

“Eugene Labao,” interrupted Nicholas’ brother, in his most imperial fashion, “Tell me I’m not seeing what I _think_ I’m seeing.”

Gene turned to face Jesse, careful to keep the kettle behind him. “That fern was looking a little peaked,” he said, and Jesse’s blue eyes went another degree colder, matching the icy splendor of the blouse he was wearing.

“Is that so?” he said, and Gene’s smile froze on his face while Jesse’s flattened into a thin white line, and Nicholas could see where this was going from a mile away.

“Jesse,” he said, before Gene got a teacup thrown at his head, “I’m sorry again about the flowers, and what happened with the golden dragon.”

Jesse’s mouth softened. “You’re sweet,” he said. “But really, it was nothing. After we flew off, he was perfectly polite, a gentleman the entire time.” 

“If he was so great, why’d you go off and sulk by the lake all last night, then?” asked Gene. Jesse took a step towards him, his glare like winter, and Gene gulped the rest of his mug in one go, shrinking into his seat. “I was just wondering,” he mumbled to the dregs at the bottom of his cup.

“Not that it’s anyone’s _business_ ,” Jesse said, “but for some cursed reason, I’ve found that my tastes run in the opposite direction.”

“How so?” asked Nicholas, while Gene busied himself poking at the biscuit on his plate.

Jesse’s bright head bowed. “It’s like the dragon who wasn’t afraid of me, who could stand toe to toe with me, just vanished,” he said to the floor. “It was annoying when he made fun of me, but … when he got all serious and somber, it wasn’t… it’s just, I’ve gotten used to…”

“You _like_ to be teased,” said Gene wonderingly, through a mouthful of biscuit, and Jesse tensed, darting a glance at him and then back down again, his cheeks awash in dusky rose. 

“It’s not funny,” he said, his voice rising to an unsettlingly high pitch.

“I didn’t say it was.” Eugene had set the mug down on the window sill, and was regarding Jesse with a strange glint in his eyes, biscuit half eaten and forgotten on his plate, and Jesse went a deeper shade of pink, tugging at the sides of his frilly blouse and pouring a cup of tea like it required all the concentration he had in the world.

“What happened with Katayama?” he asked Nicholas after he had finished pouring and sat down in another arm chair. He was still avoiding Eugene’s eyes, and the way his cup clinked against his saucer told Nicholas that his brother’s crush was very much in the present tense. “Eugene told me he gave you his feather.”

“What do you mean, what happened?” said Nicholas. “We went home, slept, and came back here.”

Gene paused from where he was inhaling a second biscuit. “He means,” he translated, spraying the table with crumbs, “did Katayama kneel for you?”

_Kneel?_

Jesse smacked the biscuit out of Gene’s hand, having apparently recovered something of his usual aplomb. “ _Manners_ ,” he said, and turned to Nicholas once more. “Gene told me what happened yesterday. We were wondering if you had made it official, as it were.”

“Did he propose or not, genius?” asked Gene, and Jesse hit him again, while Nicholas dropped his own biscuit on the ground.

“No,” he said, and he tried to sound nonchalant about it, but it must not have worked, because Jesse’s blue eyes turned cold and Gene’s smile disappeared.

“Perhaps I need to have a _talk_ with him,” said Jesse, lip curling. 

“You mean, _we_ need to have a talk with him,” added Gene emphatically, cracking his knuckles.

“It isn’t what you’re thinking.” Nicholas held onto his mug with both hands, clutching it to his chest. “It was all just a big misunderstanding.”

Gene smiled in a disturbingly toothy fashion. “I’m ‘specially good at misunderstandings,” he said. 

_Oh Christ._

Nicholas took a deep breath and set down his mug on an end table. He hadn’t planned on telling either of them any of it, but it appeared he had little choice in the matter: the King would not be happy if both the heir _and_ Gene joined forces against Nicholas’ fiance, fake or no. 

“Seiji was afraid he’d offended me,” he said quietly. “He thought he’d treated me poorly, disrespectfully, because of the flower. He was very kind, actually. I could tell he felt torn up about it. I even tried to give him his feather back, but he wouldn’t take it.”

“He isn’t a complete fool, then,” said Jesse. “ _That’s_ something of a relief.”

Gene gave a low chuckle. “What I wouldn’t give to have seen the look on his face.”

“It’s not a joke, Gene,” said Nicholas, frowning. “He even gave me his sword to make up for it.”

“Oh, he gave you his _sword,_ did he?” asked Gene, but before another word escaped him Jesse had elbowed him, swift and savage, directly in the ribs. 

“How encouraging, Nicholas,” Jesse said sweetly, as Gene held his side, whimpering. “He seems quite taken with you.”

“It’s not like _that_ ,” Nicholas said hurriedly, his ears going red. “It’s just, we fought so badly the first time we met, and after getting to know him, I’ve grown to respect him, and--and I wish there was something I could give him as a token of my esteem. I don’t have anything near as valuable as his sword, and I don’t want to insult him.”

“There is a way to show your favor,” said Gene, flinching when Jesse raised his hand warningly. “I’m not messing with him, truly!”

“You’d better not be,” said Jesse with a glower.

Gene rubbed his ribs, narrowing his eyes right back. “I’m _not_ , sheesh! Anyway, Nicholas, you have his feather on you, right?”

Nicholas touched the silken softness hidden away safe in his pocket. “Yes,” he replied, puzzled.

Gene held out a hand, palm out. “I’m not going to do anything bad to it, I promise,” he said, and Nicholas reluctantly dug it out and gave it to him.

“I know you’ve heard of this, right? Wearing a dragon’s feather? It’s the customary next step once you are gifted one, if the dragon has impressed you.”

Jesse nodded and Nicholas did too, even though he had only the vaguest recollection of dragon customs, since that tutor had met after lunch when he was half asleep. “Good. You’d only do this with a dragon you favored above all others,” said Gene. “The wearing of a dragon’s feather signifies the formal acceptance of--”

“Yes, yes, yes,” said Jesse impatiently, “It’s all very symbolic, Nicholas and I both had to take an exhaustive course on it, we don’t need to get into every single detail, or else Katayama will be back here before we’ve done it. The point is, that it’s a customary way to express your admiration, and we all know where Katayama stands with such things. What do you think, Nicholas?”

Nicholas remembered the black dragon in flight, dark and daring, or sweet and silent in the cave, pointing out the stars in the little room he had made special, for his princess. _Seiji deserves something special, too._ “Let’s do it,” he said firmly.

“Excellent,” said Jesse, prodding Gene, who flinched again. 

“Keep your shirt on, princess,” he mumbled, stepping up to Nicholas, nibbling his bottom lip as he fiddled with Nicholas’ hair.

He leaned back, closing one eye and squinting, and then Jesse heaved a dramatic sigh, shoving him aside.

“No, no, no,” he fussed, “it’s crooked! You’ve messed it all up, Gene, just like I knew you would.” He came up to Nicholas then, making little minute adjustments and humming an unconscious soundtrack as he did so, while Gene watched, pulling a face that caused Nicholas to giggle and Jesse to step on Gene’s foot.

“Knock it _off_ , Labao,” he growled.

“I didn’t realize princesses were so very violent,” Gene said.

Jesse flared his nose, blue eyes sparking like the sky during a storm. 

“You haven’t seen _anything_ yet,” he began, and then the door opened and Seiji and Sally came through it, and Jesse and Gene sat down without another word exchanged between them, as if they had both reacted to an unknown cue.

It was funny; for as different as they were, at times it seemed to Nicholas as if they shared one mind. 

_If they could ever get on the same page, they’d be unstoppable._

As Seiji passed by him, Nicholas’ fingers absently went to the feather, and the dragon walked straight into the fern, knocking over the pot.

Nicholas’ hand froze, while Gene cackled so hard he almost fell out of his seat.

“I’m not used to this body,” Seiji said peevishly. His eyes went back to Nicholas again as he righted the urn, and the skin across his nose turned the faintest pink.

“Nicholas could help you practice,” said Gene, giving his most diabolical smirk. Nicholas shot him an alarmed look as a wind blew through the door, bringing with it feathers black as ink, twins to the one above his ear. Meanwhile Seiji ignored them completely, stalking to another window and staring outside as if he couldn’t be bothered to address any of the situation at all.

_What the...?_

“Gene,” said Sally, and the tone in her voice made him sit up straight as a blade. “I expected you to be dressed appropriately at this hour of the morning, or do you mean to waste my time?”

“No, no, Sally,” said Gene, dragging a hand through his hair. “I didn’t realize how late it was, but I’ll get ready right away.”

“Mmmhmmm,” murmured Sally, watching like a hawk as Gene practically ran down the stairs and out the door. “And I don’t know what _you’re_ smiling about, your highness-- that flouncy get up is about the least appropriate riding outfit I could imagine.”

Jesse’s annoyance at being caught out mixed with his excitement. “We’re going riding?” he asked, spilling his tea down the front of his blouse with a yelp. “I’ll have to get an apple for Faramir, they’re his favorite!”

“Go!” said Sally, “I’ll tell you more when you get back, and Nicholas, I _know_ I don’t need to tell you that you need a shower, do I?”

“Sorry, Sally,” he mumbled, “We were running late and I--”

Sally held up a hand. “It’s fine, just go get ready, OK?”

The whole while that Sally had been talking, Nicholas could sense the dragon’s stare, but whenever he shot a glance in his direction, Seiji was gazing out the window with the same regal, unaffected pose as before-- with one tiny difference: his face grew slightly pinker each time. 

Sally waved Nicholas on. “Your dragon won’t leave without you, I promise,” she said. 

“Oh,” Nicholas said, “I’m not--”

“I like your hair, princess,” said the dragon, slow and awkward and still not looking away from the window, and this time it was Nicholas’ turn to blush. He’d assumed Seiji would drop the title, now that he knew the truth, but once again the dragon refused to be predictable. 

_I’ll never understand him._

“Ah, thank you, Seiji,” he said, his face burning, and it was only by sheer force of will that he managed to walk, not run, out the door.

**********************

Once they had washed up and returned to the library, the dragon was gone. 

“He went to the stables,” said Sally, before Nicholas could ask. “Which is where we’ll be headed, as soon as you dispose of that atrocious hat, Your Highness.”

“Gene said it’s all the rage for--”

“First time I’ve seen a soul wear it under the age of fifty,” Sally said matter of factly, and Jesse bridled, tossing the hat onto the table and glaring at Gene. “Ass,” he muttered, and Gene shrugged, grinning. “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said. 

When they arrived at the riding paddock Seiji appeared to have collected himself, leaning against the fence and staring across the courtyard to the fields in the distance with his normal stoic expression, though his color still ran high.

“Princess,” he said, tilting his head. “Riding clothes suit you.” 

Gene snickered while Nicholas forced a smile, trying to banish the flush he could feel rising on his cheeks. 

“They do, don’t they?” Jesse smirked. “Though, he looks the best in black, I think.”

The corners of Seiji’s mouth lifted an infinitesimal amount. “In that, we are in agreement,” he said.

“Black and green,” said Jesse, and Nicholas was going to kill his brother, good intentions or no, and then the stable-hands arrived with their horses, and as they each took their respective mounts (save the dragon, of course), Sally gave a brisk clap.

“Enough flirting,” she said, and Nicholas’ face was _definitely_ burning now, but luckily Sally seemed to have captured everyone’s attention. “Jesse, I know your father debriefed you on the why of this little operation, so I’ll leave that for you to explain. I’m here to tell you the how.” 

Sally pushed herself up so that she was perched on the fence rail, while Nicholas stroked the velvet of Shadow, the dainty black mare he’d been given by his father, sneaking her a sugar cube he’d taken from the tea set. “The Crown has provided you with horses which you will take to the drop point, the Clearcreek Valley Township, which lies about two days travel from here. You’re incognito, so hoods up, gentlemen, and that most especially means _you_ , Jesse Coste, and that golden head of yours. This isn’t exactly a state secret of tremendous import, so I won’t have you risking your necks for it, but do try to be indiscreet. Now is your chance to impress the King with your skills and show him how well you work together as a team.” 

She paused, head turning to face them, giving each a measured stare. 

Nicholas felt his spine slot into place like a sword into its sheath, praying his face conveyed resolute determination, and the not flustered unease he was actually experiencing. Shadow nudged him, lipping at his hands with a gentle whicker, and he slipped her another cube while Sally dropped down from the fence with a thud. “You want to prove you all can handle an overseas assignment?” she asked. “Don’t screw this up.”

Nicholas glanced at his friends from the corner of his eye, trying to get a read of the group’s mood. Jesse drummed his fingers on the saddlebag of his chestnut Arabian, clearly ready to be off, while Seiji stared at Sally, his slight nose wrinkling, perplexed. Meanwhile Gene was frowning, the skin around his face taut as he checked the straps on Fitz, his gray gelding. He and Jesse had been pestering the King to let them go on a diplomatic trip for ages, but the King had stonewalled them relentlessly, and Nicholas had assumed there wasn’t a chance in hell after the kidnappings. 

Apparently he was wrong. 

Gene yanked at the edge of his riding boots like they were chafing him. “We just met Katayama,” he said. “Isn’t it unfair to test us with a person we don’t really know?”

“The real world isn’t fair,” said Sally. “That’s your first lesson. And you should be thanking your lucky stars for Katayama, in any event. That dragon is the only reason you’re being allowed to do this in the first place, considering the threat the heir has been under for some time now. Your second lesson is that you’ll often be working with folk from cultures very different from your own, with very little in the way of acquaintance, and be expected to rise to the occasion. It won’t always be easy. But the King wouldn’t give this to you if he thought you couldn't handle it, and neither would I.”

“Don’t worry.” Jesse tossed his hair back with a cocky grin. “We won’t let you down,” he said, while besides him Faramir nuzzled into his pocket for his apple, and Nicholas tried (and failed) not to roll his eyes. 

Sally gave a small smile. “I know you won’t, your highness. I’ll look forward to seeing you on your return. Make me proud.” She nodded dismissively, clasping them one by one on the shoulder, and they watched in silence as she disappeared around the side of the barn. 

After her footsteps faded Gene pulled at his boots again, making a face like there was a pebble in the sole. “What the hell is going on, Jess?” he asked. “What is this not-so-secret secret mission Sally was talking about?”

“Well, first, ah, I should tell you…” Jesse winced, twisting the straps of the saddle bag. “There’s been a bit of a scandal.” 

The dragon took a step towards Nicholas, so that he was near enough for their shoulders to brush. “Regarding my pr-- regarding Nicholas’ royal lineage?” he asked, leaning almost imperceptibly closer, that spicy scent of his oddly comforting as Nicholas fought to conceal his own panic. 

“You know about that?” Jesse’s fingers froze for a moment before resuming their fidgeting. “No, actually. Regarding you, and your behavior at the feast.”

Seiji blinked at him, expressionless, and Jesse shook his head in exasperation. “It was two days ago, Katayama. You shot an honored guest up the ceiling like a firework, I would have thought it made more of an impression on you.”

“Oh, _that_.” Seiji gave an amused chuff. “He threatened Nicholas,” he said, as though there was no more explanation needed, and then Nicholas was sweltering in his riding jacket, chest hot and tight, even though they had been in the shade of the stables for the better part of an hour.

Gene nodded. “Fair enough.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow as he scratched Faramir behind the ears. “I’m sure Katayama is thrilled to have your approval,” he said dryly. “In any event, father has decided to hold a great ball for all the dragons I turned down, to smooth any ruffled feathers, as it were. But this presents a problem, because--”

“If we are in the castle and don't make an appearance, it would be seen as an insult,” Gene finished his words. 

“Precisely.” Jesse heaved a dramatic sigh. “Even though no one, least of all Marcel, wants us there.” 

“But if we have urgent business elsewhere..." added Gene, gesturing expansively with his hands, and Jesse made a gagging noise. “Then no one is offended. Diplomacy.” 

Seiji huffed, long and loud. “Enough of this meaningless gossip. What is the business of the trip?” the dragon asked.

When Jesse told them, he bared all his teeth, a low growl coming from the back of his throat. “Cloth,” he said, while Shadow stamped uneasily. “I am the most powerful dragon on this continent, and your king is sending me to fetch cloth.” 

“It’s not merely cloth,” Jesse scoffed. “It’s a type of chainmail, and only this kingdom is in possession of the process that creates it. Dragons and princesses come from far and wide to acquire a set, because it is not only lightweight, but also fireproof. Very unique.”

“It’s a _rare_ cloth,” said the dragon disgustedly. “What a relief. My dignity remains intact.”

“I’d venture to say you lost that upon your introduction to my brother.”

The dragon glanced at Nicholas, pinning his arms across his stomach as if it troubled him. “My behavior that day was reprehensible,” he said in a quiet voice. “I offer no excuse.” Nicholas twitched, his fingers accidently pulling on the bit so hard that his mare whinnied, backing away, and he had to feed her three more cubes before she calmed down. 

“Well.” Jesse wound the reins tight around his hand, obviously taken aback. “Nicholas told me you apologized, and perhaps you’ll have an opportunity to make up for it on this trip.”

Seiji set his jaw, dark eyes staring deep into Nicholas’. “I plan on it,” he said. 

Shadow shifted, clamping at the bit, and Nicholas hugged her neck, burying his face in her soft mane, which smelled nothing like the dragon’s spicy warmth. “She’s getting antsy. We should go soon.”

“We can’t go yet,” said Jesse. “We’re missing a horse.”

They all three stared at him, bewildered.

“The fact of the matter is that the method of creating the cloth is a palace secret. Katayama, you’ll have to ride.”

“ _Ride_?” asked Seiji. 

Jesse gave him an evil smile. “You didn't think you'd be exempt from the team building, did you? A dragon isn’t necessarily what comes to mind when I think of the word ‘inconspicuous’, so you're stuck on horseback with the rest of us. I’d suggest you get acquainted with one of the horses while we saddle up.”

Seiji scowled, but apparently found sense in the suggestion, for when they rode to the stables to collect him he was holding out an apple to a white mare with a black sock and an evil gleam in her eye. 

“Sparkle, huh? She’s… an interesting choice,” said Gene, his lips twitching as the mare blew, lip curled, tail and head carried ominously high.

Watching the dragon mount up was almost painful; it was only with the aid of a handful of sugar cubes that Sparkle even allowed Seiji to step into the staddle, and the arch of her neck and the tension in her jaw when he did so did not fill Nicholas with confidence.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said. 

“Where you go,” said the dragon firmly, “ _I_ go.” The mare neighed at this proclamation, rearing, and Seiji pulled on the reins, barely managing to avoid falling directly onto his ass.

“The day is wasting,” Jesse sang out, with a good deal more glee than the situation called for, Nicholas felt. “Onward!” His brother kicked Faramir into a trot, and with that, they were off. 

The clearing at the end of the riding paddock butted up against the forest proper, and Jesse headed for a faint hollow between the trees. The trail was a small one, and only two could ride the dirt path abreast at a time, so they splintered off. Jesse and Gene rode ahead, with Nicholas and Seiji bringing up the rear, making their way through the coolness of the pines to a decent sized creek. 

“Your father is truly a diabolical man,” said Seiji, when Sparkle shied for the third time in as many minutes, stopping short in the middle of the road and refusing to move. “Sending us on this meaningless errand. You realize, had I known his intentions, that we could have just remained at the lair and avoided dinner and this chore in one fell swoop?”

Nicholas reached over to hand Seiji a sugar cube. “I don’t think he’s doing this to spite you.” 

“I suppose you’re right.” Seiji leaned over his saddle, and Sparkle took the cube delicately in her teeth. “This exercise is to prove my mettle and worth as a dragon, no doubt born out of a father’s natural inclination to look out for his son. I cannot blame him, but soon he will realize his protection is no longer required.” 

“Is that so?” crowed Gene from up around a bend in the stream.

“I will see to it personally,” said Seiji solemnly, and Nicholas frowned.

_Prove your worth? Is he still aiming for Jesse?_

Too bad he hadn’t seen what had transpired between the heir and Gene earlier, or he would know that he had a vanishingly small chance of success. Nicholas opened his mouth to tell him so, but Sparkle chose that moment to break into a rollicking trot, sending Seiji bouncing up and down on her back like a sack of potatoes, and it took the combined efforts of Jesse and Gene to get her back under control.

Nicholas, worried about getting left behind, had been forced to knee Shadow twice before she was going fast enough to catch up, and when they finally did, the chase seemed to have exhausted them all, even Sparkle.

The group made a very slow pace after that, and no one was inclined to talk much for the rest of the afternoon, though Nicholas perked up when Jesse dismounted. “We’re nearly there,” he said, and they led their horses off the path, picking their way through the trees for a good mile or so, eventually threading their way through a slender gap in a dense hedge of juniper.

Before them a handsome cabin sat overlooking the creek, wholly a part of its surroundings, long roof brushing the ground like a book left on a table with the spine cracked, sunlight dappling the huge window under its eaves, lighting up the inside with a burnished glow. Behind the building proper the land had been shored up into a riverside terrace with a view of the water, and there was a fire pit surrounded by logs, along with a delicate gazebo covered in a network of emerald vines and bright blue flowers.

“Is this the King’s property?” marveled Gene.

“No, it’s Sally’s.” Jesse held out his hand, a silver key resting on his palm. “And it’s where we’re sleeping tonight.”

“Nice,” said Nicholas.

The house didn’t have a stable, so they had to tie up the horses alongside the gazebo. Nicholas noticed the same clean, crisp scent he had in Paintbrush Canyon, which meant the river was likely glacially fed, but the bank was much more pebbly than the creek in the mountains. The terrace itself, however, was covered in soft earth and moss under the gazebo, hidden by another screen of thick juniper, and presented “the ideal location for an outdoor nest,” according to Seiji. 

“A nest?” asked Gene, as Jesse left to go air out the house. “But aren’t we all going to sleep in the cabin, anyway?”

And that was when Gene and Seiji got into a heated debate, as it turned out that the dragon point blank refused to sleep indoors as a human. “If I'm not in my lair,” he argued, fingers clenched on Sparkle’s halter, “I sleep in my natural form.”

“Because nothing says low profile like a fire breathing dragon, am I right?”

Seiji glared at Gene. “To do otherwise,” he said tightly, “would be extremely foolhardy- I cannot hear as well, for one thing, and in general I have found that humans prefer to let sleeping dragons lie. I will not trade safety for discretion, Labao, not when my princess travels with me.”

“I see.” Gene gave Nicholas a knowing smirk, tweaking the edge of the feather where it remained fixed above his ear. 

“Gene!” Nicholas said, swiping his hand away and trying not to blush. “Knock it off!” Both of them froze then, for Seiji’s arm had shot out and his fingers were wrapped around Gene’s wrist. A low growl came from deep in his chest.

“Don’t touch what isn’t yours, Labao,” he said, his eyes narrowed to slits. 

“Message received, loud and clear,” said Gene, with an uneasy grin, but the dragon didn’t seem much mollified; he was still glowering as he turned and headed into the forest without another word.

“That went well,” said Gene. “Should’ve known not to mess with his feather.”

Nicholas tugged at the feather, making sure it was secure. “Don’t you think he overreacted?”

“Nicholas, did you forget what I said earlier? It’s not _just_ a feather to him, it symbolizes your--” 

“Gene, you’re taking forever!” yelled Jesse from one of the cabin windows. “Hurry up! I’m not fitting all these sheets myself!”

“We’re coming, we’re coming, quit freaking out,” Gene yelled right back. It didn’t take long for them to get into another fight, and Nicholas ended up fixing the sheets for three of the four beds on his own, wandering back down to the gazebo when he was done for a bit of quiet.

He had collected a fair collection of brush for the fire and was just coaxing a spark when he felt something nudge the back of his knee.

 **Princess,** said the dragon, dropping a haul of fish at his feet, some fresh enough to flop. 

“Rainbow trout! Those are my _favorite_ ,” said Nicholas, and Seiji’s eyes flashed green as his mane fluffed up.

 **Sally was correct** , he murmured as the fire caught the tinder, blazing up with a roar.

“Correct about what?”

**She informed me that--**

“Katayama brought food?” Gene exclaimed from the back door. He jogged over to the firepit, Jesse hot on his heels. “I’m _starving_.”

“This was very considerate, Katayama,” Jesse said, polite as ever while he bent over, shoving the fish into a basket. “Thank you.”

 **Think nothing of it.** The dragon tilted his head, his eyes lingered on Nicholas’ hair. **I’ll be back,** he said, and before Nicholas could ask where he was going, he was already gone.

“We should clean them first,” said Jesse. “Gene?”

“It would probably be smarter to do it inside, at the sink.” Gene pinched his chin. “But you know I’m awful with the baking part of it.”

“I was actually wondering if we should fry them instead.”

Nicholas followed them inside, helping Gene dispatch the poor trout and take off their scales while Jesse bustled about in the kitchen, amassing a pile of spices and oils on the counter and lighting up the wood stove. He had found a flowery apron somewhere and put it on, and when Gene and Nicholas finally finished he rubbed his hand together with a satisfied hum. “Now we’re in business,” he said

“I can’t cook, but I _can_ provide entertainment.” Gene brandished his harmonica, tossing it end over end and then snatching it from the air quick as a wink. “Who wants to hear me play?”

Jesse smiled, the true one that lit up his face like sunshine on water. “I’d _love_ that. I can cook while you serenade us.” And the harmonica slipped through Gene’s fingers, rolling on the tile floor with a thunk.

_Maybe Jesse has more of a chance than he thinks._

“Sounds like a great idea,” Nicholas said. “I’ll check on Seiji.”

Gene grabbed the harmonica and shoved it into his pocket. “No problem, we can wait--”

Jesse tucked his arm into Gene’s elbow, tugging it gently. “I’m sure they can join us later,” he said, looking at Gene from under pale eyelashes, and just then a wind blew through the trees, sneaking into the open window and depositing a fine mist of water onto their heads. 

“ _Oh_!” cried Jesse, clinging to Gene. “It’s freezing!” 

“We should close the shutters, princess,” Gene said, widening his eyes at Nicholas in a silent plea, but Nicholas shook his head with a grin.

“Have fun,” he said, and slipped away, striking out towards the path. 

Even though the sun had gone down while they had been preparing the fish, it didn’t take him long to find the dragon.

There was a clicking sound, a cool breeze whispering through his hair, and then Seiji appeared before him, the tips of his silver talons digging into the mud. **Is there something wrong?**

“No,” said Nicholas. “Aren’t you going to come by the fire?”

Seiji stared at him. **I’m patrolling**. He bent his massive head, raking his paws through it, and shaking out his mane with a grumble. 

“Why do you keep doing that?”

 **It itches,** said Seiji. **I’m still mo-- it doesn’t matter. I’m taking care of it.** Another one of the white quill shafts looked like it was stuck behind one of his ears, and before he could think why he shouldn’t Nicholas reached out and pulled it free, and Seiji gave a heavy, heartfelt sigh. 

**Thank you,** he said, a curious look in his dark eyes, and all of a sudden Nicholas determined that he wasn’t leaving without him, whatever Seiji’s thoughts on the matter. 

“Come by the fire,” Nicholas repeated stubbornly. “We’re well within the borders of the kingdom, and it’s freezing. No one expects you to keep watch all night straight.”

 **I have a duty to protect you,** said Seiji, and even though it was part of the deal, Nicholas blushed anyway.

“If you’re close isn’t it easier to guard me?” he asked.

Seiji cocked his head. **It depends on the threat. But I have made my rounds, and I suppose there is no harm in resting by the fire for a time before I do them again.**

As they settled by the firepit, Nicholas on one of the logs and Seiji curled beside him, the dragon began working at his foreleg, pulling at the scales with his fangs.

“What’s wrong?” asked Nicholas. 

**A thorn.** **It will come out eventually, but until it does…** he snapped at his leg again, his tail twitching at the tip, and hissed unhappily.

Seiji, who had been so grumpy about the riding and the cloth, but had somehow taken the trouble to catch Nicholas’ favorite fish.

“Let me look at it,” Nicholas said. 

**What?** said the dragon, but Nicholas was already leaning over, and, as Seiji watched, motionless, he placed his hand on one powerful leg. 

“It’s this one, right?”

 **Yes.** Seiji raised the leg up, setting it down in Nicholas’ lap, and then he turned his great head away, scanning the edge of the grounds.

Nicholas bent over, his hands sinking into feathers, and as soon as his fingers closed around the thorn he shifted Seiji’s leg in his lap, rotating it around so he could see, parting the scales until the thorn was visible.

He braced his other arm on Seiji’s leg, holding it steady, and yanked out the thorn quick and easy. The dragon’s muscles tightened and then relaxed, and when Nicholas checked Seiji was still standing watch, the ears swiveling on his head the only sign of life besides his obsidian eyes.

The scales around the puncture were sticking up and out of place, and Nicholas sat there and teased them back together while the faint rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. It was delicate work, wiggling the scales a tiny bit this way and a tiny bit that way, and one scale was twisted all the way around from Seiji’s biting, and it took him forever to get it back into place, but eventually he was done, smoothing down the edges with his fingertips, and covering everything back up with a layer of feathers, and that was how he ended up stroking his fingers down the dragon’s leg. 

Seiji’s leg was strong, but lean, and the elbow swooped down into a sharp, deadly point, softened by feathers but keen under his thumb when he tested it. Setting the scales straight just emphasized it more, the silver of the point sweeping down to the taloned paws, deadlier still. Nicholas could only see the very edges now, as Seiji wasn’t displaying them fully, and they remained unengaged, but even the tips were enough of a threat for anyone to take notice. The thunder had gotten louder now, and he supposed he should get inside at some point, but he was too fascinated to really care about getting soaked one way or another.

Feathers covered the pads of his toes, but Nicholas could feel their warmth, and when he pushed down on one, its talon fully unsheathed, going back silently when he let off the pressure. He pressed down on them then one by one, and he didn’t realize he had fit his hand into Seiji’s great paw until the dragon flexed them all at once, and five talon tips traced the back of his hand, trapping him neatly in Seiji’s grip. 

When he looked up Seiji was dangerously close, his dark eyes wide and fixed on Nicholas. **Princess,** he said, bowing his head. **Thank you.** Seiji turned back to his watch as his claws retracted, and Nicholas should have corrected the dragon, told him he didn’t need to continue with the pretense of calling Nicholas what he most certainly was not. 

Of course he did no such thing.

Nicholas sat with the dragon instead, tracing his fingers along that massive paw and playing with Seiji’s razor edged talons, and when he wobbled on the log something massive curled around him in support, and all of a sudden a long, silver tipped tail lay at his feet, the end curled around his boot.

Seiji began displaying his claws again, working them over and over, and there was a squishing sound, and Nicholas realized suddenly that Seiji wasn’t just flexing the claws in Nicholas’ hand, but all of them, silver flashing into mud in a strangely soothing motion as he kneaded his paws into the dirt, and when Nicholas looked at the dragon’s eyes they were half lidded, the top corner covered with a translucent film, and then there was a knock against the gazebo, and they were pitch black once more, and wide open.

“Dinner’s ready,” said Eugene. “Hate to interrupt, but...”

 **Yet here you are,** Seiji said pointedly.

"I was trying to stomp on the way over, but you were too busy purring in Nicholas' lap to notice, so…" Eugene shrugged, his smile widening as Seiji rose to his full height, and Nicholas finally realized why it never had begun raining, despite all the rumbling. 

_I made him purr again._

**Excuse me,** the dragon snapped, his ears flicked back in displeasure. **No one asked for your appraisal**. **And I have already eaten, so I will stay here.**

“Are you sure?”

 **Don’t trouble yourself on my account, Nicholas.** Seiji butted him in the shoulder with his head, very gently. **You go eat.**

Dinner was a quick affair, as they were all famished, and after they had finished they made their way down to the firepit, where Gene took up his harmonica again at Jesse’s urging.

The dragon had made his nest while they ate, a soft, feather edged shadow under the gazebo, and Nicholas privately thought it looked more comfortable than any of the beds in the cabin, though he never would have dared say so.

“That was delicious,” said Gene, blowing a few cursory notes. 

“It wasn’t bad,” said Jesse, with a shy grin. “My baked salmon is much better, though.” 

“No way,” said Nicholas dreamily. “Nothing could have been better than this.” 

The dragon shifted at his side, his crest rising to its full extent, ruff all fluffed. **Good.**

“Interesting how we got _your_ favorite,” said Gene, but his teasing missed its mark, as Seiji didn’t seem to notice much of anything the rest of the night but Nicholas, watching him silently, head on his paws, only stopping when Jesse insisted that it was time for bed.

 **Princess, I’d like to speak to you for a moment,** said Seiji, and when Jesse and Gene paused on their way up the steps to the cabin, he stamped a foreleg. **_Alone_** **.**

Nicholas swallowed, fingers touching his feather before he could stop them. “Is there another thorn?” he asked.

 **No, nothing like that. I was intending to inquire if, before you retire for the evening-- I could ask of you-- that is, request of you the privilege-- if you would do me the honor of--** the dragon clawed furiously at the tiled floor, as if it had done him great harm, and then sank onto his haunches, curled up tight. **Of preening me,** he finished, his voice even lower than usual.

And Nicholas almost rolled off the log. 

There was no flower to take the blame this time. _Why would he…?_

The dragon seemed to curl in on himself the longer the silence went on, until Nicholas couldn’t bear it. 

“Seiji,” he said finally. “If you wanted, I could— that is, if it’s alright with you, I—”

 **Yes** , said Seiji quietly, curling around and laying his head in Nicholas’ lap before he could say anything else, and the feel of his feathers on Nicholas’ skin took away any thoughts in his head.

He sank his fingers in lush, inky black softness before he quite knew what he was doing, and Seiji shifted underneath him, pressing into his touch. “Where does it itch?” Nicholas asked.

 **Everywhere,** said Seiji, and gave a heavy sigh, sinking deeper into Nicholas’ lap. **Everywhere.**

Nicholas rolled the tinier feathers in between his fingers, and when he felt the crinkle beneath them he plucked the quills out, dropping them on the floor, and Seiji gave an even deeper sigh, and there was a familiar sound, a growing, grumbly sound, like the rumble of thunder before lightning, and all at once feathers were raining down from the sky.

They weren’t sleek and perfect like the ones Seiji had manifested before. They were fluffy, downy little tendrils sticking out in disarray, and they were so slight and tender on his skin that they didn’t even tickle. 

“What are these?” Nicholas asked, catching a tiny one in the palm of his hand.

**Part of my undercoat. They keep me warm.**

“I’ve never felt anything this soft,” Nicholas said, his breath catching the one in his hand and wafting it to the floor.

 **I’d gather them into a nest for y--for my princess,** said Seiji. **Nothing is as comfortable as a dragon bed.** He stamped one foreleg for emphasis, then curled his neck back into Nicholas’ lap.

The smell of spicy musk sank into Nicholas’ chest as he groomed Seiji’s mane methodically, first the front and then the back, and all the while Seiji’s purr thundered in his ears, the dragon’s claws raking against the tiles, scoring deep furrows into the clay around the fire pit. 

When Nicholas made a second pass around his mane, the scales under and behind his jaw lifted, and Nicholas could get at the warm skin and feathers underneath, digging out the plastic sheaths and tossing them onto the ground while Seiji purred and purred and purred, and the night filled with an endless waterfall of feathers the color of ink.

 **Under my ears,** Sejji demanded, pushing under Nicholas' hand, obsidian eyes half shut, the corners covered by a translucent membrane, milky and pale. His back talons had already destroyed one tile entirely, while the front ones were well on their way to a second. 

“So high maintenance,” said Nicholas, digging his nails in deeper, and Seiji moved underneath his touch, turning his head and rubbing his whiskers against Nicholas’ palm. 

**Nicholas,** he said, slow and dazed, as the fluffy feathers continued to waft down from the ceiling. **I’ve never felt such a tender touch,** **_princess._ **The last word he growled out, and a new heap of feathers fell, tickling Nicholas’ skin as they went.

“Don’t you remember this morning?” said Nicholas, flushing. “You don’t need to call me that anymore.”

The rumble purr paused. **But that’s what you** **_are._ **

“No, I’m not,” said Nicholas. “You heard Gene. I’m not trained, I’m not legitimate, and I’m definitely _not_ a princess.” It was strange. Usually he felt relieved when he said that-- he had never wanted to be royalty-- but he had also never seen a dragon before he came to court, and he had never met Seiji.

And everyone knew dragons only courted princesses. 

**Being a princess has nothing to do with any of that,** Seiji said, staring at Nicholas with those depthless obsidian eyes. **Maybe it does for humans, but not for dragons.**

“Then why do you come to court for your matches?” Nicholas asked.

 **Because in the countryside, they still keep to the old ways,** said Seiji grimly. **Those at court welcome an alliance with us… those in the plains see it differently, and some still perceive us as the enemy rather than as friends. There are exceptions, but since we trust our princesses with our lives, most of us would rather not take a chance. Kings and nobility tend to view alliances with us as sacred vows, not to be broken. Others do not.**

“Fair enough,” said Nicholas. “What is a princess to you, then?”

 **A princess is brave,** said Seiji, ducking his head and working Nicholas’ hand deeper into his mane. **They have to be, to be comfortable being with us. They should be loyal and true, clever and kind.** Seiji’s purr started up again with a deep, rusty grumble. **And have gentle hands,** he added, and Nicholas felt his cheeks burn.

_He’s not thinking of you, idiot._

“And beautiful,” Nicholas said, his fingers tightening on Seiji’s mane as he imagined Jesse’s golden hair against Seiji’s raven black coat. “Don’t forget that.”

 **Yes,** said Seiji, his eyes fixed on Nicholas. **Beautiful.**

Nicholas was covered in bits of feather now, and he smelled like musk, his fingers knuckle deep in dragon, and it was too much, all of a sudden, and he sat back on his haunches, watching as light from the lamps glanced off Seiji’s eyes, glimmering an iridescent green.

He was strong, and regal, and gorgeous… and now that he was properly preened, somehow even more magnificent than he’d been that day at court, the first day Nicholas had met him, and Nicholas bit his lip, dropping his gaze down to the floor of the gazebo, down to the pile of soft feathers that some lucky princess would one day sleep in, and he sighed.

 **Nicholas,** said Seiji, curving his sinuous neck, and his approach was slow and careful as he brushed his great muzzle very deliberately against Nicholas’ throat, until a cool nose rested right behind his ear, and the dragon took a deep breath then, a series of long inhales, sniffing at Nicholas’ hair and making a soft rumbling noise, gentler and fainter than the purring from before. 

First he brushed one side, and then another, marking him twice over with that spicy, warm smell, and then he retreated, watching Nicholas with those limitless eyes, almost expectantly. **Come to the nest, princess,** he said, and Nicholas followed him, his heart pounding violently, his fingertips tingling like he’d dipped them in the ice cold creek.

_What the hell do I do now?_

Nicholas was blushing, but he approached where the dragon waited, bending his head and rubbing his cheek against Seiji’s jaw, face full of soft feathers, mirroring his gesture, and that must have been the right move, for Seiji stood stock still, his talons digging into the floor deep enough to carve a permanent mark, and when he had finished, the dragon curled around him in a tender spiral, resting his great head on Nicholas’ chest.

“I should go back to the cabin soon,” Nicholas said, and the dragon’s tail tugged on his ankle. **I’d prefer you stay here,** Seiji rumbled, winding him further into his embrace. **I’ve made the nest big enough for both of us.**

Despite this claim, the dragon made no move to uncoil, as if the nest were tiny and they’d only fit on it if they pressed close, so very close, together, and the purr started up under his hands and Nicholas began preening him again, and he would get up soon, he would, but it would be rude to leave before he had finished, and he was so warm and there was a whole section under Seiji’s throat that--

And Nicholas laid his head down on fluff, just for a minute, and the next thing he knew, he had drifted off to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

“You mean to tell me that you two are _still_ sleeping?!” 

His brother’s voice echoed down from the house, cleaving through the rush of the river like a greatsword. Nicholas turned his back on it and snuggled into his pillow, trying to block out the racket, but it was no use.

**We had a long journey yesterday. I saw no need to rouse him.**

“Nicholas would lie in bed till noon if you let him, but I figured _you_ at least would place some value on punctuality.”

**The momentous nature of this task must have slipped my mind-- tell me again the critical role this cloth plays in your kingdom’s politics?**

“Like I told you before, calling it cloth is an egregious oversimplification--”

Warmth crept over him, slow and sticky like honey, and Nicholas groaned as the bickering continued. Everything smelled spicy and sweet, and the regular rise and fall of silk under his cheek was hypnotic; waking up seemed like the worst idea in the world, but the argument was making it impossible for him to fall back asleep. As he stirred something tickled along his arm, and when he opened his eyes he saw a paw, claws half extended, knife keen tracing down the skin of his wrist, while around him the rumble purr began anew. The dragon wrapped around him tighter, scenting the top of his head, and the purr became deeper, and deeper still, and--

“ _Somebody_ had a good night,” Gene interrupted with a drawl, and the purr swiftly changed to a growl. Nicholas’ vision abruptly filled with velvet edged darkness as Seiji tucked him neatly underneath his body, fluff giving way to solid muscle that pressed him onto his back in the dirt, leaving Nicholas with a mouthful of feathers. **You would be wise to give notice before you disturb our nest, Labao,** said the dragon dulcetly. 

_Shit._

Nicholas attempted to wriggle out from under Seiji's chest, only to be stopped by a feathered foreleg, downy satin above, pure steel underneath. Talons sank into the dirt with a savage intensity inches from his nose, and it was hard to believe that only seconds before they had been running along Nicholas’ arm, gentle enough not to break the skin.

“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, huh?” Gene’s shoes appeared on the edge of the nest, a measured distance away from Nicholas (and, more to the point, Seiji's razor edged claws). “I wasn’t being sneaky-- for Christ’s sake, the same exact thing happened last night, and maybe if you were a little less _distracted_ , I wouldn’t have startled you....” The growl deepened, and Gene snickered. “I could care less what you get up to on your own time, but Jesse is about to have a conniption fit, so could you get a move on?” 

**Fine,** the dragon grumbled. **We will rise. Do I need to hunt breakfast?**

“Nah,” said Gene. “Jesse’s taking care of it, and we can eat lunch in town.” There was a brief pause, and then Gene whistled. “Your mane looks amazing. Did Nicholas…?”

Seiji dug his claws into the dirt again, this time with pleasure. **Indeed,** he said, giving a contented grumble that Nicholas could feel all the way down to his toes. **Nicholas preened me before we retired. Splendid, is it not?** He shook out his mane, jamming yet more feathers into Nicholas’ mouth, as he was still squished underneath him.

“Very,” Gene said, merriment ringing clear through his mellow voice. 

“Mmmph,” said Nicholas, giving one of Seiji’s whiskers a tug, and the dragon started, rolling off of him. 

**Apologies, princess,** he said, his ears flicking back. **I may be slightly... overzealous when it comes to your safety.**

Gene snickered again, sticking out his hand to pull Nicholas up. “You don’t say.”

There was a pop and Seiji stood before them, his usually messy hair immaculate, a very light pink dusting his cheeks. “I’m afraid so,” he replied. 

Gene grinned at Nicholas. “Well, at any rate, you did a killer job!”

Nicholas coughed, sending a flurry of fluff flying. “It was nothing,” he said quietly, picking off Seiji’s feathers from his shirt.

Seiji pulled him close, his hands brushing down Nicholas’ shoulders, removing the feathers with a few easy flicks of his wrists. “On the contrary,” he said, his fingers on the sole feather remaining, neatly adjusting where it rested in Nicholas’ hair. “As your father once remarked, you conduct yourself honorably and well, princess, in all the things you do. Despite your humble refusal to see yourself as you truly are, you cannot expect the rest of us to do the same.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” added Gene, somehow as serious as Seiji, which made the whole thing even more embarrassing, and thus it was with great relief that Nicholas heard Jesse’s strident yell echoing down the valley once more:

“Is anyone alive down there? Because I’m about to eat this entire pot _on my own_ if you don’t show up in about five seconds, Gene!”

“See what I mean?” Gene rolled his eyes, but he wore a small, fond smile all the same as he turned back to the house, Nicholas and Seiji close behind him.

Breakfast was hot and delicious, some kind of savory porridge with ginger and garlic. “ _Arroz caldo_ ,” Gene breathed blissfully over his bowl. “Just like mom used to make.” At this high praise, Jesse ducked his chin, fiddling with his apron and looking, in Nicholas’ opinion, much too elated for such an early hour of the morning. 

After breakfast they were able to mount up without much trouble, all except Gene, who had somehow stumbled upon poison oak while gathering firewood the night before, and whose right wrist was covered in angry red welts which Jesse was constantly fussing at him not to scratch. He eventually conceded the point, allowing Jesse to wrap his forearm in a swath of linen, "because otherwise the reins will spread it all over your arm, Gene, don't you know _anything_?"

Although Sparkle still viewed Seiji with a healthy degree of suspicion, it was tempered by the heap of sugar cubes Nicholas gave her, and by midday they had arrived at the outskirts of the village, to Jesse’s great relief.

The town lay in a mountain valley at the end of a vast field of poppies, orange-red blazing against the emerald of new spring grass, and they had plenty of time to admire the view, as they had to ride down a series of tight switchbacks to reach the village below. At the end of the foothills the stream that had been their constant companion crossed in front of the path, and then there was a bridge, ancient and arched and covered in moss, so cramped they would have no choice but to proceed single file. 

Their trail converged with another road before the bridge proper, and a stranger waited on foot there, tall and dark and handsome, with a face as solemn as Seiji’s. 

Jesse dismounted, offering him a hand. “Travel well?” he asked, and the traveler nodded, giving him a firm shake. “Not bad,” he said. “You?”

Gene came up besides Jesse, still ahorse and flanking him, his usual grin nowhere in sight. “As good as could be expected,” he said curtly.

“Some of us better than others,'' Jesse said, giving Gene a narrow eyed stare which he ignored. “At any rate, would you like to cross first?” Jesse turned his gaze to Sparkle, who had stopped short at the base of the foothills, and who hadn’t budged in the last twenty minutes no matter how many sugar cubes Seiji gave her. “It might be a while before we make it over.”

The traveler smiled; a quick flash and it was gone. “I was waiting for someone, but I suppose he’s late, so I’ll take you up on your offer.” His voice was deep, but friendly, and he bowed to Jesse before crossing the bridge. His long limbed strides made short work of the distance, and soon he was nearly to town, giving one final glance over his shoulder before passing through the gates.

Jesse stroked Faramir’s mane, lavishing him with the choicest bits of apple. "He was a pleasant fellow.” 

Gene pulled at his reins uneasily, causing Fitz to turn and paw at the dirt of the trail. “He turned back,” he said. “Why?”

Jesse clicked his tongue, feeding Faramir another sliver. “Looking for his friend, surely.”

“No,” said Gene. “He was looking at you, Jess.”

“Hardly a crime.” Jesse puffed out his chest, proud as a peacock. “Who could blame him?”

“You aren’t wearing your hood.” Gene’s voice had gone lower and rougher. “He was looking at your _hair_ , princess.”

Jesse scoffed, handing Faramir the apple core and brushing off his hands. “Now you’re just being paranoid, Gene. I know no one can compare to me, but I’m hardly the only blond in the kingdom.”

“You should put the hood on, your highness,” said Gene. “You’ll have to wear it in town, anyway, so you might as well have it on now.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, but did as Gene bid, muffling his bright hair with the green of the cloak, and once he was concealed, Gene kicked Fitz forward into a trot, clip clopping over the granite of the bridge.

“Come on, Jess,” he shouted back. “We can scout ahead before the pick up.”

Jesse hopped on Faramir’s back, giving a drawn out sigh. “Sorry, Nicholas,” he said. “He’s got a bee in his bonnet, so now we get to go ‘secure the perimeter’.” Jesse’s pout made it very clear how he felt about that. “I guess you’ll have to wait here for Seiji, but since this town is in the middle of nowhere, I don’t foresee it taking very long. The biggest threat to my safety for a good league in any direction is probably Sparkle.”

“It’s fine,” said Nicholas, struggling to hide his own amusement. It was nice not to be the one putting up with an overprotective maniac for once.

Jesse gave a very put upon huff, turning Faramir around with a jerk of the reins, and then they were thundering down the bridge, full gallop, his hooded cape flying behind him.

_Such a prima donna._

Nicholas poked around the bank, looking for any good fishing holes to show Seiji, while Shadow browsed the grass near an aspen grove. A half an hour later, the dragon had at last persuaded Sparkle into motion. As they drew up to the tree, Seiji’s mouth turned down in a tight furrow. “Why did your brother and Gene leave you here all alone?” the dragon asked, sharp eyebrows bunched above his dark eyes.

“Oh, it’s nothing. That traveler on the bridge earlier got Gene’s hackles up, so he wanted to ride ahead and make sure everything looked okay.”

“The stranger,” said Seiji, giving a hum, and Sparkle flicked her ears, blowing. “He did not linger. Did he say something untoward?”

“No,” said Nicholas. “Honestly, I think he was just checking Jesse out and Gene didn’t like it, but I figured it wouldn’t be smart to say so. Before we meet back up, though, I wanted to ask you something.” He beckoned Seiji over with a wave of his hand, bouncing on the tips of his toes and trying to be at least somewhat patient. 

The dragon took his time dismounting, his iridescent eyes wide, his movements careful, the lightest splash of color across the bridge of his nose. "You should know that you can ask me anything you wish, princess," he said. “Anything at all.”

Nicholas squatted, moving aside the branches of the aspen to reveal a weathered hunk of stone, about chest high, that appeared to be around the same age as the bridge. Countless years had blurred the etching to the hazy outline of a dream, but it was plainly meant to be a person of sorts, one hand raised, palm outward, as if to block an attack. “Do you have any idea what this is?”

Seiji knelt by his side, slim fingers tracing the worn lines of the figure’s face, whose identity had been lost to time. “This is potent magic. Very old. It explains why Gene became so on edge.” He fell silent, gazing at the totem.

“Why would that affect--” 

“Never mind that,” the dragon said dismissively. “I assume you asked because you were curious as to its function?” At Nicholas’ nod, Seiji continued. 

“Artifacts such as this originate from the days before our truce with your kind. They act primarily as a threshold. Once a dragon passes the barrier, our magic is greatly weakened: our spells become brittle, snapping like branches in a storm, and, most important to your kind, they prevent us from manifesting at will, and as such were invaluable for defensive purposes.” 

“But surely that’s not necessarily these days.” Nicholas chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “It’s been centuries since there was any conflict between humans and dragons,” he said slowly. “Do you think the townsfolk know it’s here? Perhaps we should tell them.”

When he looked up from the totem, the dragon was watching him again with one of those unreadable expressions of his.

“What?” asked Nicholas.

“Nothing.” Seiji reached out and smoothed down the feather in his hair, his mouth doing something complicated, before he turned away. “I highly doubt that they are unaware, princess,” he said to Sparkle’s shoulder, setting his foot in the stirrup. “You must remember, not everyone is like you.”

“How do you mean?” As soon as Seiji’s fingers had brushed the feather in his hair, the back of Nicholas’ neck smarted, hot like a bee sting; he rubbed it fiercely, but that didn’t help.

“ _No one_ is like you, in fact,” said the dragon, busying himself with the reins. 

_What am I meant to say to_ that?

The burning was even worse now. Nicholas made a sound he hoped seemed noncommittal, as he walked over to Shadow and mounted her. “We should head into town,” he said, once he was in the saddle. “Jesse will start to worry.” 

Amazingly, Sparkle had decided to trust Seiji (albeit with extreme reluctance, and after eating the sum total of the remaining sugar cubes), and they crossed the bridge in silence.

It wasn’t a _bad_ silence, exactly, but there was something in it, a humming, thrumming tension, like the electric flickering feeling before a duel… but that wasn’t right, either, because it was softer than that, commanding but somehow gentle, like the silk of dragon feathers resting over the hard muscle underneath, and Nicholas remembered sleeping safe in Seiji’s embrace, and he shivered as they passed beneath the arched gate of the town.

The village itself was enfolded by a wall, not as big or as tall as the castle’s, but still remarkable in its own right; the stone matched the ancient brick used to build the arch, weathered and respectable, and the general impression was one of great age and peaceful tranquility.

The streets were laid out in a grid-like pattern, rich grassy squares at their centers, and in the middle of the town stood the largest of all these, grand and green, lined with trees, a beautiful fountain at its very heart.

Across from the fountain was an iron hitching post, where Fitz and Faramir stood drinking from a marble trough, and once they had tied up their own horses and passed into the square, Jesse and Gene came out to meet them. They had checked out the immediate vicinity to Gene’s somewhat satisfaction, finding nothing too suspicious in the sleepy little hamlet that surrounded them. 

“Although,” said Gene sardonically, idly rubbing at his wrist, “it would have been better if we hadn’t cut reconnaissance short for tea and pastry.” 

“Whatever do you mean, Gene? We _had_ to stop! And cease that scratching at once, you’re only making it worse!” Jesse, who was still nibbling the edge of a strawberry scone, waved it at him scornfully. “Pay him no mind, Nicholas. He’s just grumpy I didn’t fully indulge his madness. We got you a present." He handed Nicholas a basket that smelled positively heavenly. “For leaving you two behind.”

Nicholas took an apple scone and Seiji got a bacon crumble, which he consumed with a good deal of relish. “You are forgiven,” he said magnanimously, after inhaling the entire thing in two bites.

Jesse watched him with a mixture of awe and disgust. “Glad to see you in such high spirits."

“It is easy in such company,” remarked Seiji, resting those dark eyes on Nicholas, who immediately choked on the rest of his scone.

When he was finished coughing, Jesse interlaced his fingers, stretching them out and cracking them with a satisfied hum. “So it begins,” he said with great dignity, while a muscle in Gene’s cheek twitched. “Our liaison left a sign for us to rendezvous at the abandoned sanctuary at high noon.”

Gene met this regal declaration with a frankly alarming wheeze. "There was a note on the front door, telling us to meet him at work, Jess,” he got out, fighting valiantly against the smirk tugging at his mouth.

Jesse scowled at Gene, two bright blotches blooming on his cheeks. “That’s what I just _said_ , you simpleton!” 

“Where does high noon come in, though?”

The splotches went scarlet. “Artistic license,” Jesse hissed, and Gene guffawed, long and loud. 

“Apologies, princess. I’m too much of a brute to appreciate your fine sensibilities.” Evidently Gene had given up on the smirk, and if the glare Jesse had sent him before was frosty, then the one he sent his way now was hard and slick as ice. 

“Tell me something I don’t already know.” Jesse dropped his scone on the ground, grinding it under his boot with a ferocity that made Nicholas wince. “Meanwhile we’re already running behind, thanks to our late start, so let’s get a move on.”

Nicholas sighed, staring at the crumbs in dismay before cramming the rest of his own in his mouth. 

_What a waste._

Leaving the horses tied up to graze, Jesse (still giving the occasional deeply offended huff) led them down a side street, which petered out down where the side of the mountain rose, kissing the tops of the trees, behind the old church on the edge of town.

A small stream passed behind the church, doubtless an outreach of the river from before, and it sidled up to the face of the cliff, nestling at its feet like a cat.

A waterfall leapt over the cliff, bridging the gap between stone and sky and filling the air with spray, the mouth of a cave perched above its roar. Unlike Seiji’s lair, which lay sheltered from prying eyes, cradled by the walls of the mountain, the grotto was cross-sectioned so that the full interior of it was visible all at once, arching over the waterfall in a clean span.

The rock formation was undeniably striking, but that, it and of itself, wasn’t what compelled the eye. For inside the cave was what appeared to be, as inexplicable as it seemed, a house. It was sturdy, two stories with a high gabled roof of slate gray tile, and it sat there, the commonplace become uncommon, defying all their expectations.

But as Nicholas craned his neck, squinting up above the mist, he realized that wasn’t quite right-- it wasn’t a house at all, but a... _smithy?_

“Your contact works in a cave,” said Seiji, with obvious approval. 

Even Jesse, whose deepest fear was being seen for the wide-eyed romantic he actually was, and who therefore frequently feigned nonchalance to the point of absurdity, had his head back and his jaw dropped. “ _How_ did they even build that?” he said, grasping Gene by the elbow. “Transporting the beams alone should be impossible.”

“Dragons, no doubt,” said Gene. “Brilliant, isn’t it? In my home, dragons and humans collaborate like this all the time. It’s amazing what we can do, when we work together.” Interestingly, Gene hadn’t been looking at the cave like the rest of them-- all his attention was for Jesse, and he studied that sun bright hair with a grimace, shifting from one foot to another, like there was some part of him that couldn’t bear to be still.

“You know, Jess, I was thinking, when we get back to the castle, that maybe,” he began in a gruff voice, and then when Nicholas’ brother glanced up, curious, he shook his head. “Never mind.”

_He’s still worried about that traveler on the bridge, isn’t he?_

“Well, then, no more dawdling. We’re meant to meet him at the entrance,” Jesse said, and they walked down the path by the water until they had reached what could be very generously termed a trail up to the cave (though, judging from the steepness, it seemed to involve more scrambling than actual walking).

Across a close span between two boulders was an iron gate, filigreed and fine, whose spires and delicate spirals reminded Nicholas of a seashell, intricate but with an underlying order. He poked the tip of a spike, yelping as it drew blood, but before he could do anything about it, his hand was already in Seiji’s, the dragon conducting a thorough inspection, his mouth pinched and stern. “Do you _ever_ think before you do anything?” he asked waspishly, but his fingers were tender as they brushed over sensitive skin, checking, assessing.

Jesse snorted. “Certainly not,” he said. “He’s wearing your feather, isn’t he?”

The dragon’s frown deepened, but then Nicholas touched his hand, and he left aside his appraisal. “Being reckless does get me in trouble sometimes,” Nicholas admitted to those dark, shimmering eyes. “But it also leads me to people I'd never met, and places I’d never go.” _Like a valley sweet in the spring sunshine, starry with snowdrops._ Nicholas gave Seiji’s hand a squeeze. “I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

Seiji’s mouth lost its tightness, creasing at the corners, and something gleamed in his midnight eyes, like starlight off a deep, dark lake. “I am glad for your rash habits, then,” he said, his hand flexing around Nicholas, his grip like iron, yet somehow meticulously avoiding the cut. “Most _exceptionally_ glad.” 

The throbbing in Nicholas’ fingertip spread like wildfire up his wrist, settling aching and prickly in his chest, like he’d rolled about naked in the poison oak that had felled Gene, and as the dragon held his hand, staring down at him with those mysterious eyes, Nicholas was afraid he was about to do something very _rash_ indeed, even for him---

But there was a metallic clang and the mood broke into pieces, for a tall, heavy set man was opening the gate and smiling at Jesse. 

“Your highness,” he said. “You look just like your father.”

The blacksmith, it turned out, had known Robert in his youth. “I used to fence for a while,” Joe said, mouth curled in a rueful smile. “Nothing compared to him, of course, but I held my own. How is he, these days?”

Jesse flicked the edge of his cloak with a flourish. “He’s well,” he said proudly. “He never stopped fencing, you know. Even though he doesn’t have as much time to practice as he did before the coronation, he still ranks among the best in the land.” 

“How about you? Rumor had it that every dragon on the continent was headed to the castle to try for your hand. Anyone get lucky?” Joe winked as Jesse went a predictable pink.

“Well,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and wrapping his cloak around him snugly, and then Gene cleared his throat.

“This really isn’t the time or place,” he said, a friendly grin taking the edge off his words. “Dragons don’t really take kindly to having their private business aired in public, you know.”

“You’re not wrong,” said Joe good-naturedly. “Let’s get you what you came for, then.”

He led them through the gate and into his forge, where the air stank of metal and flame, straight to the hearth at the center of the building.

There was a heap of what Nicholas had taken for scrap on the mantel, and Joe turned to it, taking it into his hands where it slithered, supple and sleek.

“There she is,” he said, holding it out inspection.

The links were small, as intricate as the work had been on the gate, but otherwise the chain mail was unremarkable-- maybe a little darker than regular steel, but nothing that indicated anything extraordinary.

Joe placed a bolt of the chain mail on an anvil, taking a cherry red coal from the hearth and setting it in the very center of the fabric. Using the bellows, he blew on the coal until it was white hot, eating a hole in Nicholas’ vision, and then he took the coal away with a pair of tongs.

“Go on, your highness. Pick it up.”

Jesse gave a high pitched laugh, but when it became clear Joe was serious, he snuck a peek at Gene, and, clenching his jaw, snatched up the metal with his bare hands. “It’s cool to the touch!” he exclaimed, pulling at the edges, but no matter how hard he tried, the metal never warped. 

Goosebumps crept down the back of Nicholas’ neck. “But how? There’s not a scratch on it!”

Jesse studied the mail, mesmerized. “How did you ever figure out how to make this?” he asked as he continued trying--unsuccessfully-- to break even a single link. ”Could I trouble you to share your secret?”

Joe scratched his beard, eyes on his creation. “ _You_ are the Heir. I may share with you anything you wish. The real question is, do you trust those among you to keep the secret, your highness?”

Jesse stepped back, putting one arm around Gene and one around Nicholas. “I would trust these two with my life,” he said, and Nicholas felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder, light as sunlight, but somehow stronger than steel. 

Nicholas squeezed him back, tongue tied, and then Gene turned his head, his eyes, usually clear as water to read, for once as impenetrable as Seiji’s. “And you with mine,” he replied, and Jesse’s chin ducked down, his cheeks pink. “Right.” He inclined his head towards Seiji, who remained at the entrance of the cave. “With respect to Katayama, he is honorable. I trust him not to break his word.” 

Here Jesse narrowed his eyes. “As far as breaking other things, I'm still not quite convinced.”

“I treat my honor like I treat everything precious to me,” the dragon said, holding Jesse's gaze. “I would die before betraying it.”

Jesse gave a single nod. “So be it,” he ordered Joe, raising a hand in command, and in that moment, he wasn't dramatic or silly. In that moment, Nicholas saw the king Jesse could become, and it made him proud and wistful, all at once.

Joe placed the chain mail back on the mantel, folding it into a neat rectangle, and then he leaned back, his eyes faraway. “It began,” he said, “with two women: one with black hair and silver blue eyes and a sad, lonely stare, one tall and fair and lame, both come to commission a crown. The silver eyed one was a handmaid, the fair lady the princess she served, who had been badly burned by a dragon. The accident had left her with a limp for the rest of her days, but she laughed as she recalled it to me, if you can believe it-- ‘It was my own fault, and no one else’s,’ she said. 

“I was caught not only by the sweetness of her voice, but by the guilt I saw in silver blue eyes, and I knew at once that the dark haired woman was no maid at all, but the dragon herself. The agony on her face will haunt me to my dying day. It was then that I had my epiphany-- I would make a suit of chain mail that could be worn on dragonback, resistant to all manner of flame, and spare any other star crossed pair the pain of such a tragedy.

“At first,” he said, rubbing a link between finger and thumb, “I believed the key would be the rarity of the ingredients. I searched the kingdom far and wide, gathering together the most precious things I could find: unicorn horn (only the shed, of course), melted ice from a falling star, the petals from the first snowdrop of the year, plucked under a full moon.

"I would treat my metal with first one, and then the other, using every method I could muster, but no matter what I did, the results remained the same: the mail I wove would be beautiful, shining-- and weak. None could hold fast under the strain of that terrible flame. I was at my wit’s end.” 

“What did you do?” asked Jesse, his blue eyes rapt, as Gene hid a smile.

“My first mistake was in thinking that such precious artifacts were the key to my goal. True, the iron must be high grade, but otherwise, all you need is what you'd traditionally use to forge steel: heat, hammer, and time. My second mistake was how readily I had abandoned my tried and true techniques in favor of the lure of the glamorous. Before, I hit my iron lightly on the anvil, but now, I hammer her day and night. Before, I folded the sheet half a dozen times-- now, I've determined that the best number is an even hundred, at the very least. I discovered that you must expose the metal to the heat it must resist. For you see, the key is the character of the metal itself. Expose it to different heats, different pressures, and you develop it, fortify it, build it up, until it cannot be riven, even by dragon fire itself.

“It was not the exotic solution I had foreseen, and I was doubtful-- as you see before you, the end result is fairly ordinary. But when you put my steel to the test, no other can match her grace under fire.” Joe placed the neatly folded chain mail into a leather satchel, which he handed to Jesse with a bow. 

“And _that_ is how I invented dragon mail.” 

Nicholas found it an odd, rather melodramatic tale, and he and Gene had exchanged more than a few amused glances during the telling, but Jesse was quiet, head in the clouds, wearing a dreamy grin all the way to the park, where they ate on a table beside the fountain.

It turned out that the tea shop served lunch as well, cucumber sandwiches and lady fingers and other curious dainties, and they sat under the spray from a flying horse (“No, no, not a unicorn, Gene, a pegasus! There’s a _difference_ , you know,” said Jesse indignantly.) eating on porcelain plates and drinking Earl Grey and feeling, at least on Nicholas’ part, a little too civilized.

At the shop Jesse had requested a special mixture of yarrow to soothe Gene’s rash, and he was letting the leaves steep while he finished off the cucumber sandwiches, half listening to the others debate the merits of Joe's story.

Seiji had discovered an unexpected fondness for apple tarts, and was mainly occupied in demolishing them. "It was far too fanciful to be believable," he remarked in between bites. "A unicorn has not been seen in this region for half a century."

“Agreed.” Gene squinted at the dregs in his mug, poking at them with a spoon. “I mean, why'd it took him so long to try something different? Why was he so invested in that pie in the sky thing with the falling star and the snowdrops and the full moon in the first place, that's the real question.”

“Hmm...” Jesse said serenely, swirling the yarrow leaves in a porcelain teapot. “It made perfect sense to me.”

Gene dropped his spoon with a clink, raising his eyebrows. “Care to enlighten us, princess?”

“You spend all your days dreaming your dearest wish: what form it will take, what it will be like when it _finally_ happens to you.” Jesse trailed his fingers along the rim of the teacup, a distant look on his face as he held the leaves against a napkin, sopping up the water. “You’ve wondered about it so long, pictured it down to the last detail...” As his voice tailed off, he lifted a hand to Gene’s wrist, his fingers resting on the rash, his cheeks turning a rosy pink. “And then it happens, just like in all the stories you’ve ever read, and you play your part, just as you have a thousand times in your fantasies, but…” 

Gene had gone motionless under his touch. “But?” he asked.

“But you realize that it’s not what you wanted at all.” Jesse turned over Gene’s wrist and began wrapping the hot leaf around it gingerly, while Gene watched with glazed eyes, so white that Nicholas began to fear he might pass out. “And the thing that really sweeps you off your feet,” Jesse murmured, “is the one you never even saw coming.” He grasped the bandages, winding them gently around Gene’s wrist, and the back of Nicholas’ neck was prickling for real, and even though the sun was shining, it was somehow raining.

“A sun shower.” Seiji shrugged off his cloak, draping it over Nicholas, who had left his own with the horses. 

“You worry too much, Seiji,” Nicholas protested, but the dragon just pulled the hood over his head with a businesslike yank, making sure it covered him fully, and the way his dark eyes flashed told Nicholas fighting him would be a lost cause. “It really is beautiful,” he said instead, watching the light hit the droplets, setting them ablaze like tiny fireflies. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one before.”

“They’re incredibly rare,” said Jesse distractedly. His hands still cradled Gene’s wrist, as if he had forgotten he was finished with the wrapping, and the poultice must have been extraordinarily hot, since Gene seemed shocked speechless. “How do you feel, Gene?” Jesse asked, running his fingers along the seam of the linen.

“How do I feel?” Gene darted a glance up at Jesse, and even with the cool rain misting down around them, the paleness in his cheeks had vanished, and his skin was flushed, struck with an almost feverish cast. “You--princess, I’ve never felt for anyone the way--”

But he stopped short, for Jesse was regarding him anxiously, his head tilted to one side.

“Gene? What are you on about?” Jesse’s forehead wrinkled. “The leaves, they didn’t burn you, did they?” He turned Gene’s wrist over, peering at his handiwork. “The mixture should have penetrated by now.”

Gene closed his eyes, working at the side of his temple with his good hand. “It’s fine, Jess,” he said too fast, and Jesse smoothed the bandage down, fingers stroking it over and over, the lines of his face pulled taut, as though he were the one who was hurt.

“Are you sure?”

“Your highness,” Seiji interrupted, low and urgent and strange, and the tarts turned to lead in Nicholas’ stomach. “ _Gene_. What did the traveler look like, the one you met before?”

Gene met Seiji’s gaze, digging his fingers into his hair. “The stranger?” he said, under his breath. “He was dark haired, dark eyed, tall-- taller than me, taller than Jesse, even. Why?”

Seiji’s shoulders went rigid. “Because someone exactly matching that description has been watching his highness for the past few minutes.”

Nicholas stretched his arms out behind his chair, letting his head fall as he cracked his back, his eyes half open, and even though everything was upside down, he was sure.

It was the man from the bridge, and this time there was no mistake--

He was staring at Jesse, and Jesse alone.

“It’s him,” Nicholas murmured to Seiji, who let out a muffled growl, edging his chair closer to Nicholas.

Jesse pressed his lips into a thin line. “Has everyone gone mad? This is ridiculous. He was meeting his friend.” Jesse’s lips went white as he clutched Gene’s wrist to his chest. “He was _kind_ ,” he insisted stubbornly, but when the church bell tolled the hour he flinched, yanking Gene across the table and nearly into the teapot.

After Gene managed to extricate himself, he ran a hand down Jesse's shoulder. “Don’t worry, princess,” he said gently. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

As much as Nicholas thought Gene had overreacted before, he was in staunch agreement with him now. “Seiji, how far away do we have to be from that statue before you regain your magic?”

“I am still incredibly powerful, even taking into account the spell,” said the dragon. “But I do not deny that I will feel better the sooner we are out of the city walls.”

Gene slammed his hand on the table, his injury apparently forgotten. “The _spell_?” he asked. “Wait a second, are you telling me this town has one of those godforsaken dragon catchers?” At Nicholas’ nod, he swore wholeheartedly. “That’s it!” he said, leaping to his feet. “We’re leaving this very minute.”

Seiji had already stood up, and was currently hovering impatiently at Nicholas' side. "We’ll go single file. I'll take the rear," he said, jerking his chin at Gene. "You, the vanguard."

And Nicholas _knew_ it was bad when his brother didn’t even argue, just rose from the table silently, big blue eyes huge, while Gene took him by the hand, leading him to the horses and helping him onto Faramir, not another word between them.

**********************************************

The sun shower vanished as unexpectedly as it appeared, a vast, dark thunderhead looming in its place, and as soon as it was safe to do so they gave the horses their head, easing them into a mile eating trot.

For an hour or more they rode, the clouds steadily gaining as the light faded into a wan, yellowish gray, until it became increasingly apparent that they would not make Sally's before the storm broke. 

Not long after the first drizzle began, Gene reined in just past an huge fir, waving the others over to take stock of the situation.

Jesse let his hood fall by the wayside, golden hair gleaming in the waning light. "Maybe we should turn back," he said, fingers anchored in Faramir’s mane, and even in the false twilight, Nicholas saw the tremor in his hands. “I don’t fancy our chances out in the open.”

“What other choice do we have? I'm not taking you back to town, not with that creep skulking around." Gene wrinkled his forehead. "I don't like this," he said, leaning forward to tug the hood back over Jesse’s hair. "I don't like it at all." 

"Agreed," said Seiji. "Sally’s house is not an option. Even if we could reach it, there are too many entries and exits, and defending it would be a nightmare. There is an alternative, however. I know of a cave system nearby. You two could sleep inside while I guard the one and only entrance."

“What about me?” asked Nicholas. "I don't have the sword, but I did bring--"

" _You_ will remain in the nest. Anyone who wishes to touch you must first go through me _."_

Nicholas clenched the reins in his fingers, fisting his hands. "Just so you know,” he said, “I can take care of myself." 

Seiji shrugged. "That is irrelevant. Now that I am here," the dragon said, “You never need bother.” 

Nicholas’s jaw set like a cocked crossbow. “If you think for one minute--”

"Caves it is," said Gene decisively, wheeling Fitz around, and that was that.

There had been a similar fight as they left town, with Gene pressuring Seiji to manifest with Jesse to the castle, which the dragon flat out refused to do. 

"And abandon Nicholas? It will take me an hour or more to recover magic enough to return, an hour in which he will remain away from my side, exposed and vulnerable. You cannot possibly think I would entertain such a scenario with any degree of seriousness."

And even though the tarts had sat like a stone in his belly since lunch, suddenly Nicholas felt light as a feather.

Seiji squinted at Gene, cocking his head curiously. "Can't you--?" 

Gene’s nose flared as he held his arm before him, winding the wrap around his hurt wrist so furiously that it looked painful. "No," he said, yanking it taut. "That blasted statue…!"

Such was his abject misery at this that Jesse, lost in a panicky haze since town, peeked up, peaky and pale, from where he had hidden his face in Faramir’s mane. "It's fine, Jess," said Gene, forcing a grin. "We'll be at Sally’s soon, I promise." 

Jesse nodded, but he still clung to Faramir like a burr, trembling and ashen faced, and Nicholas felt a pang of sympathy, as it was clear that even as he played along with Gene’s show of confidence, Jesse didn't believe him.

With the matter settled, they left town hurried and harried, and all the while dark clouds advanced mercilessly over the sun, casting the sky to their backs in shadow, the threat of spring snow, or worse, hail, adding yet another reason for haste.

Soon after they decided against Sally's, it began to rain in earnest, nothing like the sparkling sunshower earlier, but a proper storm, drenching them in a matter of minutes, the booming roll of thunder causing Shadow to spook and Nicholas to shiver, and then, when Seiji’s eyes caught his shaking, Seiji to snarl. “Isn’t there anything you can do?” he growled at Gene, scraping the sopping wet hair from his forehead with a grimace.

“Could _you_ stop a tornado?” Gene asked, nettled.

Seiji's lip curled, his sneer biting as a blade. “Unequivocally,” he snapped, and Sparkle’s neighing drowned out Eugene’s reply, which Nicholas supposed was just as well.

That was when the hail decided to start, whipping bites of ice into them from every angle, and Seiji gave an inarticulate cry of fury, whether against the storm, the stranger, or Gene, was anyone's guess.

"Follow me," he yelled, and they drove in a mad dash down the vale, besieged on all sides, a chill sinking into their skin with barbs of iron as torrents of water lashed them in the face, stalked much too closely by a peculiar metallic tang in the air that made the hair on Nicholas' neck stand on end.

Thus it was that in all this tumult the cave was less a presence and more an absence: of wind, of rain, of peril, and they stood in the stillness for quite some time, panting and wringing out their clothes, brushing the horses down, and generally recovering from the onslaught. 

When he was feeling more human again, Nicholas cast his eye about after another of the lightning strikes.

The cave was long and low compared to the cathedral that was Seiji's lair, with a tapered opening, like a wine bottle, but it was not a bad place to seek shelter: the sides were pocketed with recesses in the walls, which provided plenty of area to lounge, and the smaller size gave it a cozy feel. Towards the mouth was the largest of these shelves, and Jesse had installed himself on an overhanging rock there, near where Gene stood, staring out at the deluge.

"What are you doing?" asked Nicholas, dangling his legs off the side.

Gene cupped the nape of his neck with one hand, his cheeks turning a faint pink. “I like to watch the rain. It’s peaceful, you know?”

Seiji sat down beside Nicholas, fingers flying to fix the feather in his hair, lips pursed.

“Water is not my element," he said. "But I can understand its appeal.” 

And Jesse, who had complained ad nauseam the last time their riding lessons got postponed because of a thunderstorm, made a harrumphing noise.

“Well, I’ve always loved the rain,” he said grandly, and scooted down right next to Gene, resting his chin on Gene’s shoulder so that they watched the tempest in tandem, their profiles overlapping, and the thunder crashed and the branches shook and the pink deepened on Gene’s cheeks, all the way down to his neck.

"I won't complain, princess," he said, rubbing at his neck again. "Tracking us in that storm would be next to impossible."

Jesse clapped a hand fast to his chest, blue eyes shining up at Gene. “Really?”

“Really, Jess.” Gene took a deep breath, and in one smooth motion slid an arm around him, pulling him close, and Nicholas' brother shuddered, burying his face in Gene's neck. "It’s possible we lost him, truly?" he asked, the hush of water dripping down from the cave ceiling echoing behind the tremulous sound of his voice.

"I'm _certain_ we did," said Nicholas, and Jesse looked up, giving a shaky laugh. "Good," he mumbled, and after this he burrowed back into Gene's side with a sigh, and they all four sat and watched the rain until the light had vanished from the sky.

"I'd better go set up the fire," said Gene reluctantly, and when he rose, Seiji did as well.

"I'll assist you," he said, and they both headed off into the gloom of the cave’s interior.

Nicholas swept his hand over the ledge, knocking over a cascade of pebbles, and then stretched out along the length of rock, his vertebra making a series of disturbing popping noises. "This is a pretty nice campsite."

“Speak for yourself,” said Jesse, shivering. “I _hate_ caves.” 

“Aww, they’re not so bad, really. Besides," Nicholas said, "isn’t that going to be a problem, if you’re wanting to shack up with a dragon?” 

Even with the full moon, the light was dim in the cave, so Nicholas wasn’t sure, but it seemed as though Jesse might be blushing. “I don’t think-- ah, what I mean to say is, that’s not going to be an issue for me, anymore.” He worried his lip, running his fingers along a stalactite. “And caves, they’re so dark-- anything could be in them. In fact, aren’t we in the same boat? Don’t you keep a fire burning every night?”

Nicholas pictured Seiji’s home; its swooping grandiose approach, the tiny forest and stream, the glow of pretend stars, which had somehow in the span of a few days become dear as the real ones to him. “The lair, it’s-- it’s hard to explain. Like you said before, it’s like nothing I’d ever imagined.”

It turned out that starting a fire must have been a lot quicker with a dragon along (which did make a certain degree of sense), for shortly after this statement Gene had rejoined them, having shed his soaking wet shirt, and Jesse's breath hitched at the sight.

"It's alright, Jess," said Nicholas, who had given a start at Gene's sudden appearance himself, the nameless stranger still occupying the back of his mind. "It's only Gene."

“Forget Katayama’s lair," said Gene, who had plainly overheard part of their conversation. "Not all caves are the same.” He knelt before Jesse, touching him lightly on the knee. “You’ve never been to a sea cove, have you, princess?” he asked softly. “Near my home, we have caves of marble, with walls smooth as glass. The ocean’s reflection paints them all the shades of blue you can imagine, from sapphire to steel and everything in between, but my favorite is when they turn indigo.” Gene's lips parted as he stared at Jesse, and for a second it seemed he was holding his breath. “It’s almost the same color as your eyes," he said hoarsely. 

Jesse went still, pink inching down his cheeks, and then he reached out his hand, tugging Gene up beside him. “Maybe one day you could show me, Gene." Jesse closed his eyes, resting his chin on Gene’s shoulder once more, like it belonged there, and he didn’t let go of his hand. 

Now it was Gene's turn to freeze. “Once we've dealt with the threat to you, we can go any time you’d like, Jess,” he said, slow and deliberate. “Maybe Nicholas could come, too.” 

Jesse hummed. "Nicholas and Seiji could visit, but for the first time I'd want just me and you, Gene." He had nestled his face in Gene's neck again, his fingers still twined in Gene's. "If that's alright."

"Sounds good," Gene croaked, and then the ceiling started leaking again, countless frigid pinpricks on Nicholas’ scalp making him cringe. “I hope the fire isn’t out,” he said, brushing a hand through his hair, but he took care not to jostle Seiji’s feather.

Jesse gave a long sigh, picking himself up from where he had draped his long limbs all over Gene. "I'll go get the tent ready if you two tend to the coals."

Gene blinked, shaking his head like he had been woken from a nap. "Just so, princess," he said, watching Jesse's departure with dazed eyes.

_Guess the storm knocked us all off kilter._

Around the fireside Nicholas finally regained some semblance of warmth, and, since Seiji had slipped out silently to hunt while they were discussing the merits of caves, dinner was rainbow trout again, to Nicholas' great delight. Jesse kept apologizing for the lack of honey glaze, but Nicholas thought it was just as good if not better than the fish from the night before, and when he told his brother so Jesse put his hands in the apron's front pockets, sticking out his chest. "Thank you," he said gravely, Gene quirking a smile behind him, unseen.

Jesse headed back to the tent then, to make sure everything was in its proper place, as he put it, and Seiji had gone for one final patrol before they took in for the night, muttering something about perimeters and tripwires that Nicholas did not in the least bit comprehend.

"Are you and Jesse sharing a tent?" Nicholas asked Gene after they had left.

Gene gave a shaky chuckle. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I only packed the one as a backup. Hopefully Jess won't throw a fit when he realizes there’s a single sleeping bag between us." At Nicholas' raised eyebrow Gene hastily added: "Which of course will go to him."

"Hmm. Well, if he gets cold, bet he wouldn't mind sharing."

Gene barked a laugh, his cheeks flushing. " _Right_." 

If he knew his brother, Jesse was at that very second knee deep in cooking up just such a scenario, but Nicholas took pity on Gene and decided not to mention it. "I'm still trying to figure out what I'm gonna do," he said. 

“About what?” Gene asked, leaning forward eagerly, obviously relieved to be off the topic of his highness' affections.

Nicholas curled his fingers around the feather in his hair, a knot in the back of his throat. Seiji had been unrelenting about the sleeping arrangements earlier, but Nicholas couldn’t continue to take advantage of his good nature. To the dragon, sharing a nest possessed a symbolic importance; in an ideal world, Seiji would share his with his princess, and none other. He'd make one, not out of some obligation to the king or because he felt sorry for Nicholas, but because he was with the person he truly loved. “About where to sleep,” Nicholas said, his voice thick in his own ears.

"Aren't you crashing with Seiji?" asked Gene blankly.

"What are you two talking about?" said the dragon, coming up from behind them, and Nicholas almost jumped out of his skin. 

"I wanted to make sure Gene didn't have an extra tent," he said, his heart still beating uncomfortably fast.

“Why?” Seiji said, his mouth twisting into a frown as he gave Gene a nasty glare. 

Nicholas gave a half shrug. “Because I need a place to sleep?”

Gene had backed away, hands held palm up. “I wasn’t challenging--” he began, and Seiji cut him off with a savage growl. “I know you weren’t. You wouldn't dare _._ And besides, I don’t see your feather in his hair.”

“His feather?” asked Nicholas.

“I think you know who I’d give mine to,” said Gene quietly, and Seiji studied him, nose wrinkled, and gave a nod of satisfaction. 

“True,” he said. “You should probably tell him before he figures it out on his own.”

“I know.” Gene sighed, his shoulders slumped, his eyes tired. “But I’m afraid he’ll hate me for it,” he said wretchedly, and he skulked back to the far side of the cave, slinking into the tent without any further explanation. 

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” asked Nicholas.

“No,” Seiji said, the air snapping like a rubber band, and then he was ruffling up his mane, and shaking it out. **We need to rest,** he said. **Follow me.** Seiji turned, making his way to the lee of a boulder near the cave mouth, where there was a slight overhang. 

“Would it kill you to be less cryptic for once in your--” Nicholas turned the corner and stopped, gawking.

Seiji had cleared away all the pebbles, and in their place he had constructed a snug cocoon of bits of stick and down. **You should take off your wet clothes,** he said, his black eyes steady on Nicholas as he curled his long torso around the nest. **You’ll warm up quicker that way.**

Nicholas felt his cheeks burn, but he was still half frozen, so he did as Seiji suggested, laying everything but his underclothes aside and creeping inside.

He was so cold that when he first sank into that silky heat, all Nicholas did was stretch, forgetting that he was nearly naked and in the lap of the mightiest dragon in three kingdoms, squirming his way deeper into the feathers and giving a heartfelt groan. 

Seiji shifted from one foreleg to another, flexing the sides of the nest. **I neglected to ask before. Does the nest meet with your approval?** he asked, as his whiskers twitched, and were still.

“Approval,” said Nicholas muzzily, from atop his gossamer cloud. 

Seiji nudged Nicholas with his muzzle, silky ears lowered back on his head. **Princess,** he said, stiffening around the nest. **Does it meet with your approval?**

“Don’t call me that,” said Nicholas automatically, and Seiji coiled tighter, Nicholas sinking into feathers as he pressed his back against the dragon's muscular length. “And it’s amazing.”

 **You like it,** said Seiji, his ears flicking up again, pointed towards Nicholas, and his grip loosened around the nest, still firm but no longer rigid like before.

“I love it,” said Nicholas. “I’ve never slept anywhere as comfortable, even in the palace.” 

The sides of the nest trembled with the strength of Seiji’s purr. **That stands to reason. Everyone knows that nothing can rival dragon feathers,** he said. **And** **_I_ ** **am the best dragon in a thousand leagues.**

“And so humble, too.”

Seiji snorted. **I won’t apologize for speaking the truth,** he said, laying his head across the top of the nest, so that Nicholas was underneath him, safe in his coils.

Maybe it was the stress of fleeing town with god knew what at their heels, or it could be that he was delirious from their exposure to the elements, but for whatever reason Nicholas reached up behind Seiji’s jaw, raising the loose scales there and exposing the sleek tendons of his jaw. “Thanks for making it for me,” he whispered, placing a kiss on the warm, fragile skin he had uncovered.

The purring stopped.

 **Nicholas Cox,** said Seiji, and there was something solemn in his voice, solemn and strained. **I was remiss for not asking your permission before.** **When we return to the palace, may I speak to the King on your behalf?**

_I crossed a line._

Nicholas worked his fingers against the muscles he had kissed, languid and relaxed a minute ago, now quivering with tension. “That would be fine,” he said carefully, trying his best not to worry over what exactly Seiji intended to talk to his father about. 

The muscles eased up under his touch, as the rumble of Seiji's purr caught back up and shifted into higher gear, his coils constricting around the nest and pushing Nicholas further into his grip, feathers sliding across his skin, silky and sweet.

 **First thing, princess,** Seiji said, dipping his snout into the nest so that they were face to face. **I will speak to him first thing.**

He was watching Nicholas patiently, as though waiting for permission, and Nicholas realized what he must be waiting for, tilting his head and exposing his neck and Seiji's purring reached a crescendo, as he dragged his whiskers across Nicholas' throat, first one side, then the other.

 **Your heart is beating rapidly,** he said. **Are you falling ill?**

“No-o,” said Nicholas. “This all just a bit-- much.” 

Seiji paused, his cool nose resting under Nicholas’ ear. **Shall I stop?**

“No,” he said. “It’s fine. It's just, you're so-- so _intense_ , sometimes, that I get overwhelmed. I can't always control my reaction to you.” _Christ, that came out all wrong_. Nicholas flushed with embarrassment, praying the dragon would leave it alone.

Needless to say, he didn't. 

**There's nothing to be ashamed of,** Seiji said, nuzzling the sides of Nicholas’ throat with his deadly muzzle over and over again. **It’s natural for a princess to find their dragon handsome.** Seiji’s mane fluffed up, his whiskers slicked back to his face, his dark eyes fixed on Nicholas. **Traditionally princesses and dragons were mates as well as —**

“It would be normal to be afraid, Seiji! You could destroy a legion--”

 **Two legions, at least,** Seiji said, purring louder as he pushed his snout against Nicholas’ neck, whiskers rasping against the skin. **And I would destroy any number of them for my princess,** he declared proudly, giving a snarl, and the tips of razor sharp fangs tickled the pulsepoint under Nicholas’ jaw, harmless.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Nicholas said weakly, but Seiji made no reply, so he curled up in the middle of a warm, purring dragon and went to sleep. 

  
  
  


************************

  
  


The strike seared through his eyelids, flaring into the back of his skull like the sun at midday-- stark, swift and sadistic as a sword to the gut-- and then the clap came, like the footfall of an angry god, directly next to his ear--

**Nicholas! Please, I promise, it will be alright…!**

Nicholas flailed, kicking and screaming, tangled and trapped, until finally, _finally_ , whatever bound him loosened at last and he rolled out of the nest and onto the cave floor, face to face with Seiji, whose fluff was as raised as he had ever seen it.

 **It is fine, princess,** he repeated, positioning himself between Nicholas and the cave's entrance, as the storm raged on outside, doubled in its fury, roaring like a bear in a trap, and Nicholas could not for the life of him stop shaking. “ _Seiji_ ,” he said, and the dragon picked up something in his teeth, dragging it over and dropping it on his head, and it took Nicholas far too long to realize it was the dragon’s cloak.

“Thank you.” Nicholas pulled the heavy fabric around his shoulders, crushing it to his chest as if it were the single remaining thread of his dignity. _I won’t ask him to stay up with me._ He kept his vow, but nevertheless Seiji waited the storm out with him, a steadfast presence at his side until the thunder had become a distant clashing in the hills.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” Nicholas said, palms on the floor, shoving himself up, stiff and ungraceful, to his feet. Before he could make for the nest, though, the dragon rose before him, boxing him in neatly.

 **It is nothing to concern yourself with,** he said. **In point of fact, I have not been able to sleep a wink for the thought of some fiend lurking about and causing mischief. After careful consideration, I have come to an inescapable conclusion: there’s nothing for it but that I must scent you.**

“Scent me?” asked Nicholas. “I hardly think you need to do that. You’ve been complaining about my stench the entire time you’ve known me.”

 **I haven’t scented you** **_properly_** **. If there is an attempt to kidnap Jesse again, they may take you as well.**

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said, holding out an arm, and Seiji gave one of his little chuffs.

 **No, no, no. Your lack of a single particle of dragon lore would be amusing, if it weren’t so pathetic! I need you on our nest, so no other smell can interfere.** The dragon gave another chuff, catching the edge of his cloak with a claw and giving a little tug. **And you have to take off your clothes,** he added matter of factly.

“ _What?!_ ” said Nicholas. 

**I need your pure, unadulterated scent.** Seiji approached him, evidently intent on this insanity, and before he could stop himself Nicholas took a step backward, back towards the boulder, back towards the nest- and--

“I’m not lying naked on your bed, Katayama!” he cried, holding the cloak before him like the world’s most useless shield.

 **I have never understood the human aversion to what is, after all, a natural condition.** Seiji stretched out, the whole long line of him, shaking out his mane and digging his claws into the dirt floor. **I am naked all the time** , he said arrogantly. 

“That’s different, you moron,” said Nicholas. “You’re the most powerful dragon I’ve ever--” he snapped his mouth shut, but it was already too late; the dragon’s ears were cocked forward, his whiskers out, and his midnight eyes wide and pleased. **It’s true, if I were made dainty and delicate, like you, I might reconsider,** he said.

“Delicate?” Nicholas yelped. “You ass, I--”

 **That was not a criticism, Nicholas Cox,** said Seiji. **Despite your messiness, and your uncouth manners, underneath you are pure princess. Tender and trusting, with a kind heart and sweet ways, someone like you was never meant to walk this dangerous world alone.** He paused, shaking out his mane and arching his spine until the crest had risen to its highest extent. **You need a dragon by your side, without a doubt; someone strong and capable, to protect you.**

Nicholas’ face flamed. “Maybe I should see if the golden dragon is taken,” he muttered.

 **Ha!** Seiji gave a snort so vigorous, a lick of flame emerged, lighting a nearby twig on fire. **I would be wounded, if I didn’t know the ludicrousness of that statement.**

“What’s so ludicrous about him liking me?” asked Nicholas sharply.

 **I never said he wouldn’t.** Seiji stamped the twig out with one brisk movement. **But you aren’t wearing his feather in your hair,** the dragon all but purred, stretching out his forepaws and kneading them into the earth with a grunt of pure pleasure.

Nicholas went even redder. “Maybe that’s because he hasn’t offered me one.”

Seiji scoured the dirt with his claws one final time, leaving deep furrows behind, which he regarded with no small degree of pride. _He wants to mark me just the same._ The thought should have been alarming, but whatever was making Nicholas’ chest tight, he was quite sure it wasn’t fear. 

**There is no need to make me jealous. I have determined to scent you, regardless-- if only to get rid of that stink of yours.**

At this Nicholas gave a cry of rage and darted a kick at what he supposed was Seiji’s shin, if dragons had shins, but the dragon effortlessly dodged him. **Keep on your smallclothes if it will make you more comfortable,** he said indulgently, and Nicholas gritted his teeth, weighing the odds of escaping with all his limbs intact if he pinched one of those sensitive ears, but in the end he only buried his fingers in the feathers there, giving them a harmless pull. 

Seiji purred quietly, leaning into the touch. **If I didn’t know better, I’d accuse you of flirting in order to distract me.** He gave a bemused chirp as Nicholas felt his cheeks go an even darker red. **You realize, in dragon courtship, preening is considered--**

“There’s no danger of that,” Nicholas said, yanking off the cloak with a muffled swear as it caught on his ear. “Rest assured.” He threw it aside clumsily, laying down flat on his back on the feathers in only his smallclothes, which seemed to have shrunk two sizes since he last wore them. 

The dragon considered him with those midnight eyes of his, lithe paws sinking silver claws into the dirt, patiently waiting for permission to be granted.

“Come on,” Nicholas said grumpily. “Get it over with.” 

_Maybe it’ll be short and sweet._

But of course, he had no such luck.

Seiji padded over, so that he was looming over Nicholas, and the familiar tang of nutmeg followed him, sinking into Nicholas’ chest, strangely soothing. The dragon settled on his lean haunches and bent his neck, lowering his muzzle to the backs of Nicholas’ knees, and he pressed his cool nose to the sensitive skin there, breathing in deep and long. After far too many minutes in which the dragon lingered there, tracing minuscule patterns and tickling Nicholas with his whiskers, he pressed his muzzle higher, nosing an inner thigh, the feathers of his mane sighing against him like kisses, and Nicholas squirmed, his leg twitching. 

Seiji was being careful, much more disciplined and considerate than he ever was with his words, and it was clear he took this seriously, that he had meant what he said about protecting Nicholas, and all the blood that had gone to his face began trickling lower, around the vicinity of his hips, and no matter what he tried to think about, nothing could stop nature from taking its course. 

Eventually that nose came to rest at the edge of the black fabric, and when it became clear that Seiji would press up and scent him _there_ , Nicholas clamped his legs together, shoving the dragon’s muzzle off him. 

“NO,” he cried, red to the ears. 

**That’s one of the richest sources of--**

“I DON’T CARE,” said Nicholas. 

**Do not be alarmed, princess. As I told you before, your reaction to me is completely normal, and there is no reason for embarrassment.**

“I’m not having a reaction to you,” Nicholas snarled. “I’d have this happen with anyone who was touching me like that.”

The dragon shook out his mane. **You find me attractive, in whatever form I choose to appear,** Seiji declared smugly. **You have, from the moment we met, exhibited all the signs of an extraordinarily receptive mate, which, again, I assure you is nothing to be ashamed of. I am a superior specimen: it is natural that you long to be bedded by me.**

“Like hell I do,” said Nicholas. “We only just met a week ago!”

 **However you feel logically,** said the dragon, ignoring his outburst altogether, **the demands of chemistry are a separate matter. I understand your concern completely. I have long considered myself master of my emotions, and yet there have been instances in our short acquaintance when even I--** Here he inhaled sharply, curling his neck away, and Nicholas felt something in his stomach flip. **In any event,** he continued, after an awkward pause, **I will of course respect your wishes, and do as you ask. I believe I have caught your essence. All that remains is for me to cover you in my own.**

“You really think your scent is enough to put off that awful stranger?”

The dragon craned his head around, his ears swiveling forward, pointing unerringly at Nicholas, and behind his eyes something moved, silent and graceful and deadly. **Understand, princess, that no one will dare lay a finger on you, once you are marked as mine,** he said. **I can promise you that.**

Nicholas hugged his knees to his chest. “What do I need to do?” he asked.

**Lie down and bare your throat to me. I’ll take care of the rest.**

Nicholas let go of his legs, sinking back into satiny down, trying in vain to convince himself that the racing of his pulse was nerves, and not anticipation, that the shaking of his hands was because he was scared, not because he ached to sink them into feathers as far as they would go. Seiji stood over him, pressing his muzzle against the side of Nicholas’ neck, like he had done many times before, but _this_ time he exposed his fangs fully, rubbing the inside of his cheek against Nicholas over and over, the subtle spice of dragon distilled into a highly concentrated musk, filling Nicholas’ lungs up to the brim after his initial gasp. The overpowering nature of it reminded him of the incense at court, but while that usually sent him coughing and choking, instead Nicholas felt weak at the knees, dizzy and desperate, digging his fingers deeper into Seiji’s mane and taking in long, slow breaths, helplessly craving more, which seemed impossible, as it felt like he had been pierced straight through, and Seiji’s scent was a part of him now.

 _Maybe it is._

“Seiji,” Nicholas whispered, arching into his touch, and the dragon _purred_ , in a different register then he’d ever heard him, velvet with a vicious edge, but one never turned against Nicholas, only ever for him, a sworn sword in his defense, and the tension from before, from the terror of the storm, from the stranger’s vague menace, it all seemed to peak and then fall away, leaving Nicholas nestled in the dragon’s embrace, cozy and cherished, protected and safe, and he lay back against the nest panting, utterly spent.

Seiji drew back then, his purr deepening. **Our scents have wedded,** the dragon said, and he clawed fiercely at the floor, terribly pleased.

“What does it smell like?” Nicholas asked, arm draped over his face, still trying to catch his breath.

 **Gingerbread, spicy** **_and_ ** **sweet,** said the dragon unsteadily, his voice undercut by a stream of purrs. **So rich, and so decadent, princess…**

There was a flash then, and horrible cracking, jarring in the extreme, and Nicholas very nearly screamed, and when he gathered himself together again he found his arms sinking into a fluffy, spicy mane. Seiji had pressed himself over his entire body, so that Nicholas was shielded, belly to belly, bracketed under paws tipped with deadly talons, settled into the give of the nest on one side and the silky slide of scales on the other. 

**You are afraid again,** Seiji said. **Don’t be. It is only the storm, and even if it were not, I swear on my honor that I shall never let you come to harm.**

Nicholas’ face was close to smooth, supple scales, deep in Seiji’s feathers, and the dragon began purring, very, very quietly, taking long, heavy inhales. **There is no need to move from this position,** he said. **I can take in the scent very well from underneath me.**

“Alright,” said Nicholas to the back of Seiji’s jaw, and they lay that way for a long time, until the storm had passed and the only sound was the hush that came after rain. 

**Now,** said the dragon, satisfaction dripping from his voice. **There’s no place on this earth they’ll be able to take you that I cannot follow.** Seiji shifted, curling around him tight, and when he finished moving Nicholas lay in the middle of his coils, centered on the nest. 

**If you rest your head on my mane, our scents will marry all night long,** the dragon said, doubling up before him so that he lay at just the right height, the tip of his tail winding around Nicholas’ foot like a silver anklet. **It would be prudent,** he added. **Considering recent developments.**

“It only makes sense,” said Nicholas. Katayama’s mane was nicer than any pillow he’d ever slept on. 

**Precisely,** said the dragon, who had begun purring under his arms again, and when Nicholas drifted off to sleep that time, no thunder dared trouble his dreams. 

  
  
  


******************************************

Morning found the cave in a pool of silence, rays of sunlight cautiously delving into the interior, sifting among the gloom. 

The storm was, it appeared, definitely over. 

As Nicholas peered through the half open tent flap, he blinked, shaking his head, and then checked again, but he had been right the first time. 

_I knew it!_

Next to Jesse’s bright head lay a dark, unruly one, and a thick, muscular arm was wrapped tight around his brother’s slim ribcage. Gene’s face was hidden, buried in fair hair, but the rest of him lay bare chested, plastered to Jesse's back, one tanned ankle thrown over a slender shin, and it was painfully sweet and incredibly private and Nicholas backed out of the tent so quickly that he tripped over the cooking pan and fell with a crash that could have woken the dead.

"What was _that_?" his brother said, blinking blearily as he emerged, his hair somehow perfectly tousled, his cheeks tinted with a whisper of pink.

"Oh, nothing," said Nicholas a little too emphatically, a trickle of sweat making its way down his back. "I meant to surprise you with breakfast, but there isn’t any fish left."

"You shouldn't have! But if you insist, I did buy some eggs in town. They’re in my knapsack, if you want to fry them up. " Jesse gave him a sleepy hug. "It's fine, Gene," he called back to the tent. "It was just Nicholas."

Gene came out of the flap, smiling as he rubbed his eyes. "Huh," he said. “Guess making an entrance runs in the family. You're about as subtle as that storm last night, you know.”

"Did it wake you?" Nicholas asked.

" _Yes_! It was absolutely dreadful: I was terrified," said Jesse as he posed dramatically, brow furrowed, hand over his heart. "Luckily I had someone thereto keep me safe." He smiled radiantly at Gene, who promptly turned a vivid red.

"I, I didn't really do anything…" he mumbled, digging through his rucksack.

"Nonsense! You were very comforting," Jesse said glowingly, heaving a blissful sigh. "A true gentleman." 

Gene went red down to his chest, yanking his shirt out of the bag. "I'm glad you think so, Jess."

“I _know_ so, Gene Labao,” his brother said, and Gene ducked his chin, throwing his shirt on like they were aiming to leave right this minute.

“Gotta feed the horses,” he said, already heading over to untie them, and Jesse frowned, rubbing his cheek with one hand.

“Sometimes I can’t make him out at all,” he said, half to himself. “At least his wrist is doing better, I suppose.”

“There’s no one above you in his estimation,” said Nicholas, who could not pretend to understand the intricacies of his own relationships, much less anyone else’s, but who knew this for the unassailable fact that it was.

Jesse gave him another hug. “Thank you, Nicholas,” he said, and went off to get dressed, while Nicholas threw himself into cooking in an attempt to avoid his own case of nerves.

He had woken up that morning alone, covered in fluff and the spicy-sweetness of their scents intertwined, to find Seiji gone on some unknown errand. It was just as well, honestly, because after what had happened the night before, Nicholas wasn’t sure if he was ready to face the dragon in the light of day. The memory felt tender to the touch, it was so vivid, each moment from the night before honed to a fine point and impressed upon him, as if Seiji had etched it into him permanently. Even without the dragon's physical presence, he could feel him in every beat of his heart, and it was terrifying to be known on such a deep level, like his skin was flayed away, all his secrets exposed, for everyone (for _Seiji_ ) to see.

_But he already knows my darkest secret…_

**Princess,** said Seiji, rare and refined before him, and for a brief instant Nicholas could not tell whether he was imagining the dragon, or if he truly was there, but then Gene returned from tending the horses, settling the matter. "Katayama," he said. "Where were you?"

**Taking stock of the road, in both directions. Always within earshot, of course.**

“Very responsible of you," Gene said. "Notice anything int--" he paused, eyebrows pinched together. "Hey, Nicholas.” Gene came closer, giving him a tentative sniff. “What's--”

 **I marked him,** said Seiji, in a tone that _dared_ Gene to make something of it.

"No kidding," he said, happy to oblige. 

**In light of the potential threat, I believe it was a wise decision.**

“Clearly Nicholas’ safety was your primary motivation,” said Gene, completely deadpan, and Seiji cast a gimlet eye at him, taking a sniff of his own.

**Seems like you'd do much the same, if you could. Granted, as of this morning he’s already partially covered in your scent, but...**

“HEY!” Gene cried, sputtering, “that was-- _he_ was the one who insisted--” 

**You don’t need to explain. What you do with your princess is** **_your_ ** **business,** Seiji said deliberately. **I merely ask for the same courtesy to be extended to me. At any event, I am going for food.**

“Jesse bought eggs,” said Nicholas, tilting the pan so Seiji could see.

"They're very good," his brother insisted, scrambling back up from the tent. He was dressed in a shockingly blue jacket which Nicholas had never seen before, and when Gene caught wind of it he did a double take, so apparently neither had he.

 **But you prefer fish,** Seiji said.

Nicholas blushed. “Well, I _do_ , but--”

 **I can easily procure them for you,** said the dragon. **But I dislike the thought of venturing too far afield, given the events of yesterday.**

“I can handle it,” Jesse and Gene said in unison.

“You’re _heir_ to the _throne_ ,” said Gene, and Jesse gave a deeply insulted squawk. “You can’t be involved in a brawl, Jess, come on--” 

“I’m a highly trained fighter,” Jesse said, scowling, “I’ve learned since I was knee high from my father, the best in all the land, and you know quite well, Gene Labao, that I could take you, anytime, any place!”

“In a bout, no question; but fencing has rules, princess,” said Gene. “Not everyone plays by them out here in the wide world, and you can’t ask me to stand by and let you get hurt for the sake of your pride."

Jesse's bootheel hit the cave dirt with a sharp thud. "Excuse _me_ ," he said, "but _I'm_ not the one insisting on fighting alone, when there's a perfectly capable second at my disposal."

“In case anyone wanted to ask me what I thought,” Nicholas began heatedly, flipping the omelette so forcibly it narrowly escaped ending up on the ceiling, but it turned out no one did.

 **Certainly you are quite capable,** Seiji was saying to Gene, who did not seem at all mollified. **But I’d feel better with a spell of my own in place. You understand.**

Gene glanced at Jesse, whose face had gone sour. "I suppose I do," he said, as Jesse leveled a poisonous glare in his direction.

_But the stranger is still out there, and what if he's really a dragon, in disguise? Seiji would be facing him, all alone--_

**Excellent. I will set it now, and as long as you do not venture past the waterfall, to anyone else's eyes it will be as if no one was here at all.** The dragon turned to leave, and before he quite knew what he was doing, Nicholas had abandoned the eggs and run up to him, hands sinking into soft feathers. 

Seiji stopped short, cocking his ears forward. **Princess?** he asked, bringing his head closer to Nicholas, who abruptly felt very foolish. “You’ll be careful, won't you?” he asked, fighting a sudden, irrational urge to flee back into the cave.

 **As always,** said the dragon, and he bent his proud head, brushing his muzzle against the side of Nicholas’ neck and pressing it there like a kiss, and then he padded away, and was soon hidden among the trees.

“Has he done that before, Nicholas?” Gene asked. "The, ah, the _nuzzling_?"

“He always does that,” said Nicholas, although now that he thought about it, he realized that Seiji had never once done it when the others were around. “Why?”

Gene and Jesse shared a look that Nicholas could not decipher in the least. 

_Do they think he’s mocking me?_

“It’s all to do with the marking,” Nicholas began, trying to explain, but not quite knowing where to begin “the same type of thing. He’s trying to do right by me, is all. He told me that he’s going to talk to dad as soon as we get back.”

Jesse beamed at him, nasty mood evaporating like the morning dew. “He said that?”

“Yep.”

Oddly enough, Gene was smiling too. “Excellent,” he said. "It's about time he made it official."

"Made what official?" 

Jesse opened his mouth to answer, but instead he erupted into a fit of coughing. 

_What in the…?_

A plume of smoke drifted past, the smell of rubber and soot engulfing them in a greasy, grimy haze, and-- " _Fuck_ , the eggs!" Nicholas cried, and by the time they had put out the flames, he'd forgotten the matter entirely, sooty and sweaty and caught up in scraping the burnt remains of breakfast from the pan. 

Jesse groaned theatrically, tugging the collar of his shirt up over his face. " _Ugh_ , I reek of fire and brimstone."

"Katayama said something about a waterfall, didn't he?" asked Gene, and Jesse clapped his hands together, a line of black smeared across the bridge of his nose from his dirty jacket.

"He did, didn’t he? Good thinking."

Nicholas shook his head when they asked him to come along. "Maybe later, once Seiji gets back," he said, biting his lip.

Jesse's face softened under the layer of ash. "Don’t fret. He'll be back soon," he called over his shoulder.

Nicholas attacked the pan with his dagger, ferociously chipping at the charred omelette. "Jesse, I wasn’t _worried_ , I was just--" 

But his friends were already gone.

He tended to Shadow, brushing her from mane to tail, leaning into her comfortingly solid presence, but even that didn’t help. Staying behind proved a serious miscalculation: alone in the cave it was impossible to escape the conclusion that his brother was right, however much he hated to admit it. 

Nicholas was _fretting_ over Seiji Katayama, who could obliterate any dragon he met without breaking a sweat, not because there was any logical reason for it, because there _wasn't--_ but because Nicholas was an idiot, thoroughly and comprehensively, and he'd had gone and done it, gone and fallen for the black dragon, like the fool that he was. 

_Classic. I had to pick the one dragon who'd never spare a glance in my direction unless the King himself bid otherwise._

Nicholas had been in denial ever so long-- since Seiji had placed that kiss on his wrist, if he was being completely honest--but last night had set fire to all his flimsy justifications, sending them up in smoke just like he'd done with breakfast. After some miserable reflection, during which he could come up with no solution save explaining the situation to Seiji, which seemed bound to end in tears and/or absolute humiliation, Nicholas decided he was better off joining Jesse and Gene at the waterfall. 

He'd just have to pray that his heart would soon recognize the hopelessness of what it was asking for.

_I won’t hold my breath._

The stream at the base of the valley ran downhill and he followed it, the rushing roar in the distance telling him that he was headed in the right direction, towards a haphazard jumble of boulders that the stream sped up and over, careless of the fall below. The ground soon became uneven, dipping and then climbing again, forcing him to clamber over various jagged rocks and boulders to reach the crest. 

He was still at least twenty feet or more from the top when he saw it: a gap in between two massive crags, cool and wet and dark, seeming to speak of a shortcut. Nicholas squeezed himself in between the granite, wriggling for a small eternity before popping through and cracking his skull on the low ceiling. He laid on the ground until his head stopped spinning, staring at the rocks before him and rubbing at the throbbing knot on his scalp. 

The waterfall must have done a number on him, because one of the rocks looked like it had a face, like that weird statue from town, but what would it be doing all the way out here?

_Gotta be a hallucination._

Nicholas steeled himself, hissing through his teeth and picking his way down the algae covered rock face, pocked with tiny pools of water from the waterfall's spray, fervently hoping there was a way back that didn't involve that passage, because he was certain that it would be impossible to get up the same way he had come down.

He saw Gene and Jesse before he heard them. He scrambled over one last boulder, and when he looked up, there they were, silhouetted against the falls: Jesse scaling the slick side of a slab, Gene spotting him from behind.

They were midway up, climbing alongside the waterfall itself, which dropped into a deep pool midway down the makeshift cliff before falling to meet the lake at the bottom, a good fifty feet below.

The rocks were coated in slime from the algae, and Nicholas winced along with Gene as Jesse pressed ahead at a breakneck pace, eager to reach the top. Sure enough, when he got to the main overhang he slipped, and only Gene’s impeccable reflexes kept him from hurtling headlong off the edge.

“Jess,” he said sharply, “how many times do I have to tell you to not be so damn irresponsible?” --but Jesse just stepped further into the circle of his arms, and Gene's stare turned deep and wild then, like the sea at sunset.

“Even if I fall, you'll always be there to catch me, won't you, Gene?” Jesse asked with great sincerity, blue eyes half open and dreamy, and the waterfall’s spray began to form a mist, a gauzy cobweb film between the two of them and the rest of the world--

“Of course I will, princess,” Gene said, and the way this was heading was becoming rapidly obvious, even to someone as oblivious as Nicholas.

_Oh hell. Now what?_

Other than diving into the fall pool, which seemed like a very bad idea, there was no other way to go back except by scaling the rock face Gene and Jesse were on now. He’d inevitably interrupt them, and Gene would be horribly embarrassed and it would spoil the whole thing, not to mention Jesse would never ever _ever_ forgive him, not till the end of time.

While Nicholas was weighing his options, Gene was fingering something in his pocket, and then he was holding out a bouquet of deep blue wildflowers shaped like stars. 

“They’re for you, Jess,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, and his brother stopped short, blue eyes huge, as Gene continued wistfully: “I picked them while you were getting dressed. I thought maybe you could wear them in your hair.”

Gene wiped the soot from Jesse’s nose, brushing his bangs behind his ear. “I know it's hard for you not to leap without looking, but you need to be careful-- not just for the king…” 

Jesse’s head tilted under his hand, his eyes half shut. “Yes?” he asked, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and there was a fateful pause.

“But for _me_ ,” said Gene firmly, and Jesse’s mouth parted, his shoulders relaxed, and all the red went to his cheeks, all at once.

Gene placed the flowers above his ear, and then they stared at one another, something between them, spirited and charged as the storm, and Nicholas wished for Seiji then, as he felt awkward there, bearing witness all alone. 

“I stayed up all night with you in my arms, thinking about what you said, about-- about taking you to my grotto, and I’ve been keeping something from you for the longest time, Jess, something I thought I had to hide, but I think that maybe I don’t need to hide it, not anymore, that maybe there’s some chance that--that my feelings could be returned.”

Jesse went a rich pink all over, his chest heaving. "Oh _Gene_!" he cried, and Nicholas was half afraid he’d pitch off the falls in a dead faint.

“But there’s something I need to show you first,” Gene said quietly, as the water behind them rose, arcing up in perfect halo, and Nicholas prepared to avert his eyes and cover his ears for the better part of the morning, as there were some things involving his two best friends that he definitely could not unsee or unhear-- 

\---and then the air boomed, a blast loud as the thunder from the night before, but the sky was clear, and Nicholas ducked behind an overhang as Jesse jumped into Gene’s arms again, shaking with terror. 

The stranger from before walked into the clearing below, followed by a small green dragon, and even though Nicholas should have been scared senseless, the first word that sprang to his mind was, oddly enough, _cute_. 

**Er,** the dragon said, lowering his head, and he tucked his muzzle into his shoulder as there was another small explosion, and a patch of shrubbery went up in smoke. _Wait, is he coughing?_

 **I’m dreadfully sorry,** he called up to them, stamping out the flames. **I'm a fire dragon, you see, only I'm not much good at it.**

His wings drooped so forlornly at this admission that Nicholas could not help shout down to him: "Well, what are you good at?"

The green dragon brightened immediately. **Oh, I'm a natural at tailoring. If you'd like, I could whip up a few things for you...** The stranger cleared his throat, giving the dragon a significant look from under those dark eyebrows, and he squeaked, his ears pricking straight up.

 **Alas, as Dante is good enough to remind me, this is neither the time nor the place,** he said, turning to Gene. **My deepest apologies, but** **I’m afraid that your confession will have to wait. It was terribly romantic, though,** he added encouragingly. **I’m sure he’ll say yes!**

Gene stiffened, his arms wrapped tight around Jesse. "That's the Crown Prince you're speaking of," he said, calm as the ocean before a storm. "I'd think twice about what you're doing, if I were you."

The dark haired boy--Dante-- sighed. “I _told_ you so, Bobby,” he said, shaking his head. “No one else has hair that shade of blond.”

 **Drat. I had so hoped you were wrong, but I suppose it’s too late now…** The dragon gave another of his explosive coughs. **Oh well. Third time’s the charm?**

Jesse wailed. “Not again,” he said mournfully from within the circle of Gene’s arms, while Gene’s eyes flashed, his lips curling back into a snarl--

And that was when Nicholas realized they were about to get kidnapped.


End file.
